Archer's Burning
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Ain't nobody's hero. The way she was lookin' at me, you'd think I just cured the whole damned planet of this plague.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Archer's Burning

Chapter 1

 _"She's my little girl. I should be there!"_

 _"You ain't got no business out there. I work better alone_."

Daryl shrugged the strap of his crossbow up his shoulder and held his knife tightly in his hand. With each footfall came a crinkling leaf or a snapping twig. Then came the screams of preying birds, the various chitterlings of woodland animals scurrying along the forest floor for food and shelter.

 _"I can't sit here and do nothing."_

 _"Sittin' right here is where ya need to be. Ain't gonna be no help to me out there."_

It was a fact, after all, he told himself as he squinted into the filtered sunlight streaming down through the tree branches. She didn't know how to handle a gun. She'd be a burden out there. It was just the truth, and it wasn't her fault at all. It was just the way it was.

 _"What if something happens to you? What if you go out there and get yourself hurt? Then what?"_

 _"I can take care of myself. You just sit tight."_

 _"Thank you. Daryl, thank you."_

Rick and Shane had urged him not to go, that hope was dwindling. Two days they'd been stuck up in that traffic snarl without a clue as to where Sophia was. T-Dog was becoming feverish and everyone was itching to do something, to go somewhere. Out on the road, they were sitting ducks, and it was only a matter of time before another herd came along.

But he'd listened to that little girl's mama cry all through the night, and never in his life had he witnessed such heartbreak. It was alien to him, like a foreign word on his tongue. He'd never seen the kind of love and protection for a child that Carol had lavished upon Sophia. He'd only ever known his mama's screams as his daddy beat her, the slurred words after a fistful of pills and a stiff drink. He knew the pain of a belt buckle snapping and clawing at his skin until his skin was pulpy and raw.

 _Ain't nobody's hero. The way she was lookin' at me, you'd think I just cured the whole damned planet of this plague._

He flinched as a hawk screeched somewhere off in the distance, and he heard the flutter of wings and the scream of a field mouse as it became nothing but a memory.

"Sophia!" he called, ducking under a low branch as he made it to a clearing. He took a few heavy breaths, lungs burning from the walk. He'd gone at least a mile.

The snap of a twig nearby startled him, and he moved, pressing in close against a tree when a walker stumbled into sight. She was dressed in blue jeans and a white top, dried blood spattered all over her long, auburn hair. He watched as she stumbled over a tree root but didn't fall. When she turned, her lips were peeled back in a snarl, half of her face bitten away as dead, white eyes searched for fresh meat.

His throat tightened as his hand curled around the handle of his buck knife, and as she turned away, he turned out from around the tree and buried his knife to the hilt in the base of her skull. She went down like a switch had been turned off, and her skull cracked as he pulled the blade from it and wiped the brown muck on the side of his boot.

"Sophia!" he hollered again, tucking his knife into the leather sheath on his belt. He pulled his crossbow out from behind him and held it up, steadying it as he listened and waited. A cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and his breath grew hot against his arm as he held his bow steady, strong. It wasn't long before the woods grew silent, and he could make out the faint trickling of water. If anything, he could take some back to the group.

He felt along the back of his belt for the canteen he'd hooked on, and he lowered his crossbow. He turned toward the sound of water, making his way down a steep decline as the scattering of trees became more sparse and the earth became softer.

He stumbled as the toe of his boot got tangled in some brush, but he steadied himself and hoisted his crossbow back over his shoulder.

Before long, he spotted the creek, wide but surprisingly high considering the drought they'd been under since before the Turn.

He climbed down slowly, carefully, finding his footing in knots and hollows in the thick tree branches and roots that spider-webbed down the steep embankment.

Once he was down, he looked up and downstream, looking for signs of walkers. When the coast was clear, he knelt down at the edge of the water, gravel crunching as he slumped to the ground to rest. He rubbed his hands together under the cool, clear water, staring down at his own reflection for a moment. He looked filthy, hair slick with sweat, a layer of dirt and grime seeping with sweat that he quickly washed away.

He gulped large handfuls of water, gasping for breath between each drink. He knelt down, dipping his whole head under the surface, feeling the cool rush fill his ears and his nose, and he sputtered, pulling himself back up to breathe again. He brushed his hands over his hair as the water slipped down his neck and dampened the dirty neck of his torn old shirt. He knew he needed to press on, but if he was going to be any help in finding Sophia, he had to have water. And food. His grumbling stomach reminded him of that as he peered up at the sky, feeling the cool evening air settling in as the day began to wind down. He had an hour—two at the most—of sunlight left, and he couldn't waste it. He had to push on.

...

"It looks better," Carol murmured softly, gently dabbing at T-Dog's injury with a clean, damp rag.

"Don't feel better," T-Dog groaned as he popped another antibiotic, courtesy of Merle Dixon's proclivity for unprotected sex.

"The site's clean, and I don't see any infection." She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. "Your fever seems to be coming down."

"You ever hear them say that sometimes it gets better just before it gets worse?"

"You're not dying," Carol promised. "Now you rest." T-Dog gave her hand a squeeze.

"Thank you for this," he said quietly. "You a nurse or something?"

"Or something," Carol said with a sad little smile. "I went to nursing school for a time, but then I met Ed, and he didn't like he working." She cleared her throat.

"For what it's worth, you and your girl are better off without him. My daddy always said that a man who can't treat his woman right ain't a man at all."

"Your daddy sounds like a smart man," Carol said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You let those antibiotics work their magic, alright? I'll be back to check on you in a little while." She got up to back out of the small bedroom in the RV, but just as she reached the door, he called out to her again.

"He'll find your girl. Daryl will," T-Dog said quietly. "If anybody can, Daryl can."

"Thank you," Carol said gently, as tears prickled at her eyes and threatened to fall. She stepped out of sight to find Rick and Lori waiting up in the front of the RV.

"How's he doing?" Lori asked, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leaned against the wall by the door.

"He's worried, but I think his fever's breaking. The wound looks better, too. I think if he had any infection, it's starting to clear up."

"Thank God," Lori murmured.

"Or Merle Dixon's clap," Carol pointed out dryly. She wasn't expecting laughs. This was what it was. If God had any say anymore, he sure wasn't saying much. "Any sign of him?"

"No," Rick said quietly. "And if we don't hear something come morning, I'll take a group out, we'll start looking again." Carol felt the strength leave her then, and she slowly sat down at the small fold out table.

"Hey," Lori urged, moving to sit next to Carol, "Daryl's the best tracker I've ever seen. He's gonna find her, and if he doesn't find her tonight, we'll look again tomorrow."

"She's so young. She's just a little girl." Carol shook her head, closing her eyes tightly as her shoulders began to tremble. "She could…it gets cold out there at night."

"Hey. Stop. Don't think about that. Listen to me. You look at me," Lori urged. "Sophia's gonna be alright. You have to believe that." Carol curled her hand around Lori's and squeezed as she bowed her head.

"Thank you," Carol murmured.

"Anytime, honey," Lori promised. "Come on. Let's get some air. Come on." The two women slid out from the small booth and started for the door. Rick gently brushed his hand over Carol's arm.

"Hey," he said quietly, "I know Shane gets riled up, but we're not leaving until we have an answer, alright? That's a promise."

"Thank you," Carol murmured, brushing her tears away. "But you can't…I don't…"

"Stop," Lori urged. "We staying positive, alright?" Lori's hands were firm on Carol's shoulders, and in her eyes there was a determination, a fire, a sense of confidence that Carol had never seen when she'd looked in the mirror. But there was a fear. An overwhelming fear, and no amount of assurance could mask that in Lori's eyes. She was terrified, just as Carol was terrified, and it made Carol's stomach tighten at the idea that no matter how scared she might be, Sophia had to be more frightened than she'd ever been in her entire life. As a mother, she felt utterly helpless. She'd let her little girl down too many times, what with going back to Ed time and time again and not protecting her from the volatile, hostile environment that went on behind the white picket fences that gated their home. She couldn't let her down again. But she felt absolutely powerless, as if Ed was still right there with his disapproving glances and his firm hand pushing her down until she couldn't get up again. She hated who she was with him, but he was dead now.

She took a deep breath and promised herself that if—no, when—Sophia came back, she would spend the rest of whatever time she had left making sure Sophia was prepared to fight and survive in this world. The child had already paid the price of her mother's mistakes. She had to be strong. She had to be.

...

The thirst was overwhelming, but he drank until he felt satisfied, but the hunger still rumbled in his belly. The sunlight was dwindling as dusk began to settle in, and Daryl stood, adjusting his bow across his back and topping off the canteen before clipping it back to his belt.

A flock of birds took off from the treetops not even a half mile away, and Daryl paused, staring down the stream as a deer came walking out for a drink. He watched it, unmoving as the creature stood peacefully at the water's edge, drinking its fill from the stream. He grabbed his bow, aiming it at the unsuspecting creature, figuring he might just be able to clean the animal and take some meat back to the others. If he couldn't come back with Sophia, at least he wouldn't have been completely useless.

But at shrill scream down the way startled the animal, and it took off, disappearing from sight before Daryl could get his finger on the trigger. Another scream. It was a girl. A child. _Sophia!_ All thought of the hunt—of food—was gone.

"Sophia," he murmured, as his breath caught in his throat. He rushed toward the screams. "Sophia!" The screams grew louder with each footfall, and he nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch as he ran along the shallow edge of the creek. Up ahead, he could just make out the form of the walker in the creek up to its waist, reaching out toward something but unsuccessfully moving forward.

The screams came again, and Daryl took off again, bow raised, and his gaze snapped to the flash of a pale blue fabric as a shape pressed itself into the hollow of a rotted old tree that had probably washed down the creek a hundred years ago. It was half-full of water, but he could see one arm clutching at the side, while the other arm held a very dirty, very wet rag doll.

As he grew closer, he could see that the walker was stuck, unsuccessfully struggling to get to the girl. It snapped its jaws and growled, relentless in its efforts to dislodge its feet from the murk of the creek bed.

"Help me!" she cried out. "Help!"

"Sophia!" Daryl hollered, lungs burning as he rushed closer, heart hammering against his ribs. "Hold on! Sophia, hold on!"

"Help!" she screamed again, and that was when he saw her slip. She screamed out just before she slipped under the surface, and the walker fell then, also disappearing under the surface, and Daryl felt his blood run cold.

He dove in then, keeping his bow above water as he struggled toward the old, rotted tree. He heard the snarl as the walker breeched the surface again, and he took aim, firing a bold right through its eye. It fell forward, and the bolt was lost, but it was worth it to know that he had one less threat to deal with, as the body washed away.

He felt under the water, feeling for Sophia's hand, and when he felt the fabric of her shirt, he reached into the water to pull her out, only to find she wouldn't budge. He dropped everything then, dipping under the water, swimming down to find her foot lodged between two entwined roots. His lungs burned as he struggled to pull her wedged shoe free, fingers slipping against the rubber of her shoe sole.

She was struggling, foot thrashing and arms frantically curving out toward the tree to try to pull herself up, and he knew it was only a matter of time and there'd be no helping her, but there was no way he could bring that little girl's lifeless body back to her mother. It wasn't an option, and neither was coming back empty handed.

With one final tug, he freed her foot, and he pushed her upward to break the surface of the water. He came up sputtering for breath, and she was choking and crying, gripping the tree as he caught the strap of his crossbow with his foot, pulling it back up above water.

"Hey. Hey. S'alright. You're alright." She continued coughing, and he reached out for her.

"I don't wanna die," she cried out.

"It's alright. It's alright. Hey. Come here. Grab onto me. You're ok." Sophia flinched, blinking through the tears, remembering the way he'd shouted at her so sternly just the night before at the old folks' home and how her mother had wrapped her so protectively and bit back a warning to leave her little girl alone. She hesitated, but she reached out then, grabbing onto his arm and letting him pull her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close as he waded across the water with her and pulled them both up onto dry land.

She lay back against the muddy grass and gasped for breath, shivering. Daryl quickly drew her in close, rubbing her arms to keep her warm as the cool evening breeze drifted through.

"S'gonna be dark soon. We gotta get back," he murmured. "You ok, kid?"

"I…I think so," she panted through chattering teeth. She held her hand up to reveal a deep scratch on her palm. He felt his heart sink, and Sophia wiped the blood on her shirt.

"I cut it on the tree. It hurts bad," she whimpered. With a heavy sigh, Daryl tore a piece of his shirt off and began to wrap it around the wound.

"You sure that's how you hurt it? You weren't bit? Weren't scratched?"

"No, sir," she promised. "Just a scratch." She squeezed her hand shut after he finished binding it up with the torn cloth, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not s'posed to cry. My daddy always said girls don't need any more reason for boys to hate them, and crying makes girls weak."

"Hey," Daryl murmured, crouching down at her level. "Don't believe everything your daddy ever told you, 'cause most likely he was full of shit." Sophia flinched at that, but she nodded. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir." He helped her up, and they started up the direction Daryl had come from. They hadn't gone more than a few feet when Sophia gasped suddenly.

"Eliza!"

"What?"

"My doll! I named her after Eliza. She gave her to me before she left with her family." She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I have to find her."

"Sophia, we ain't got time to go lookin' for a doll's probably a mile downstream already."

"But…I promised I'd take care of her," Sophia whimpered. And then she was going back to the water, and before Daryl could reach out to grab her, he saw the deer out of the corner of his eyes, frightened and leaping out of the brush just as a gunshot rang out. He heard it then, the gasp, and his gaze refocused on Sophia, as the life left her eyes, and her arms went limp. And all he saw was blood as her knees buckled and she fell forward onto the muddy banks of the creek.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _Keep breathing. God, please. Keep breathing._

He held her tight in his arms, clinging to her limp body as he ran through the trees, following the kid that had fired the shot. He couldn't have been a day over sixteen. What the hell was he doing out hunting, anyway?

 _"I didn't see her! I was tracking that deer! Oh, God. Is she alive?"_

"How much farther?!" Daryl hollered, fighting off the burn in his lungs and the ache in his legs.

"Half a mile. Almost there. Just through them trees on up." They made a beeline for the trees up ahead, and Daryl held her closer. The whole front of his shirt was soaked with her blood. He could smell it, all around him, and all he could hear were Carol's sobs, the sobs over her missing girl, the screams she'd undoubtedly cry out when she got the news. _Keep breathing._

 _"Christ, she's bleedin' everywhere._ "

 _"I can help her. I can get her someplace safe. There's a farm. Let me take you."_

 _"You lie to me, I'll kill you. I'll put you in the ground."_

The beam from the kid's flashlight was weaker now, but thankfully, they slipped past the last of the trees, and the woods gave way to a big field. Up in the distance, the glow of lamplight shone bright and welcoming from the porch of an old farmhouse.

"Hershel. He's…he can help. If anybody can help, it's him." Daryl held Sophia tighter, as her head lolled against the crook of his arm.

"C'mon, Soph. Don't do this." He kept his focus on the task at hand and followed carefully in the kid's footsteps. When they reached a fence at the edge of the property, the boy climbed over first, leaning his shotgun against the fence and reaching for the girl. Daryl eyed him warily but knew there was no way he was getting over that fence with Sophia in his arms. He gently handed her over and before he knew what was happening, the boy was rushing her across the property.

"Hey!" Daryl hollered.

"No time!" the boy called. "Grab my shotgun and follow me." It was a surprisingly innocent show of trust, but Daryl picked up the shotgun and followed the boy across the lot to the big, white farm house that seemed to exude warmth from the fine white curtains that masked the glow of light from the inside.

Someone was on the porch, and as soon as the frantic runners came into view, they stepped inside and hollered for someone. But not just one someone came out. Several some ones came out, and one was holding a shotgun aimed directly at Daryl.

Daryl halted in his tracks as the boy started up the steps. Confused at the older man holding the shot gun, the boy turned and shook his head.

"He's with me. This is my fault. I did this."

"Jimmy, get her inside," the older man said. Jimmy did as he was told, and the older man stepped down off of the porch. "Kindly hand that gun over, and we won't have a problem."

"Only problem here is that your boy shot that little girl." His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as the older man eyed him up and down before lowering his gun. Daryl quickly handed the shotgun over, and the older man turned and hurried inside.

"Maggie, I need you." A young woman with shoulder-length dark hair and a cowboy hat turned to follow him inside the house.

"That's Hershel," a middle-aged woman said gently. "He's a veterinarian, but he's dealt with his share of gunshot wounds since this whole thing started."

"Can he help her? Can he help Sophia?"

"I'll pray for her. My name's Patricia. Lost my husband Otis just last week. Prayer didn't work for him, but the dead got to him."

"Daryl," Daryl grunted.

"Come on inside, Daryl, and we'll get you cleaned up."

"Her mama needs to know. She…"

"I'll go," a young blonde girl offered.

"Beth Greene, your daddy would have your hide."

"Let me help. Please?" Beth offered. Patricia looked at her sharply, grabbing her by the upper arm.

"You crazy, girl? You go out there, you know what could happen. You saw it happen to your own mama!" Beth looked like she might cry at that moment, but instead, she wrung her arm away and reached into her pocket for a set of keys. "Don't do this, honey."

"I want to help." She turned to look at Daryl. "Where's your group?"

"Beth Greene, if you even think of taking my car, I'll make sure Daddy tans your hide." Beth turned to look through the screen door, where Maggie was coming out wiping blood off of her hands with a soft, white towel. She turned her attention back to Daryl. "Went right through her. Daddy's just double checkin' before he starts sewin' her up. She's gonna need blood though."

"I'll do it."

"He says it's better if it's family."

"Her mama…the group's stuck in a traffic snarl out on the highway."

"Yeah, the one with the overpass?" Daryl nodded.

"I know where that is. I'll get her."

"I'll go with you," Beth offered.

"No, you stay here. Help Daddy. Talk to Jimmy. He blames himself, and Lord knows that boy's full of enough guilt as it is." Beth looked put out by her sister's words. "Beth, this ain't time for one of your fits!" She grabbed her keys out of Beth's hand and hurried down the road.

"Hey!" Daryl called. "It's Carol. Her mama's name is Carol."

...

Carol leaned back against the camper, taking in slow, deep breaths as the smell of gasoline and motor oil filled her nostrils. She felt closed in with all of these cars surrounding them. The scrape of sneakers against gravely pavement startled her, and her first instinct was to recoil and rush back into the RV, but when she saw that it was Carl, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Daryl'll find Sophia. And if he doesn't? I'll help my dad and Shane look for her when the sun comes up." Carol smiled at that, and she put her hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Sophia's so lucky to have a friend like you." She gave him a pat atop the head, and she took a deep breath.

"Carl? Carl!" Lori came rushing around the side of the RV, eyes wide with worry. "What'd I say about wondering off like that?"

"Sorry, Mom," Carl said with a sigh. Lori's hand flew to her chest, and her eyes met Carol's, and Carol could see the exact moment Lori felt the guilt rise in her throat. She gave her friend a sad smile and shook her head.

"It's ok," Carol said gently.

"They'll find her. They will," Lori murmured, putting her hands protectively on Carl's shoulders. "Right?" Carl looked up at his mom and nodded, and she gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "C'mon. You should sleep, kiddo."

"I'm not tired. I can sit watch with Dale."

"Uh-uh. You need to sleep. You might not have school tomorrow, but I'm still your mama, and I know what's best, right?"

"Alright," Carl groaned. Carol smiled at the silly exchange, and she watched as Lori ushered Carl off to sleep in the back of Carol's car. Lori gave her friend a sympathetic smile before heading off after her boy.

Carol resigned herself to settling down for the rest of the night. First she was going to check on T-Dog and make sure he was still doing alright, but before she could step foot into the RV, the flash of headlights in the distance caught her eye. Whoever it was was coming fast, and the first thing that came to her mind was that maybe Daryl had found Sophia, and along the way, he'd found an abandoned car to bring her home in. She knew the chances were slim, but she honestly couldn't figure who else it could be.

She tapped on the side of the RV, and Dale looked down.

"I know. I see 'em. They're coming fast." He moved to the other side of the RV to holler for the rest of the group. Within moments, Glenn, Andrea, Shane, Rick, Lori and Carl were gathering in front of the RV with Carol, and T-Dog was stepping out of the RV to see what the commotion was.

"Lori, take Carl inside," Rick murmured, drawing his gun as the vehicle approached. Carol squinted into the light as Lori ushered the boy into the RV, and Carol put her hand on Rick's shoulder.

"It could be anybody," she said softly. "Maybe they know something about Sophia."

"I'll handle this," Rick insisted. Shane murmured something in his friend's ear, and Rick nodded, taking a step out toward the car.

The driver's side door swung open, and a young woman stepped out, eyes frantic as she searched the group.

"One of you Carol?" she asked. Carol felt her heart skip a beat, as Shane and Rick looked at each other anxiously.

"I'm Carol," Carol said quietly, stepping forward and tightening a shawl around her shoulders.

"Daryl sent me for you. It's about Sophia." Carol felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't know who it was, but in that moment, she reached up and squeezed the hand, feeling as if her world was beginning to spin.

"Is she dead?" Carol asked, eyes glossy with tears, lower lip trembling as she fought with everything she had to keep her emotions in check.

"You gotta come. She's alive, but she's hurt real bad, and she's gonna need her mama." Those were the last words that Carol clearly heard before she began to falter. She felt strong hands hold her up, and she turned then, looking up to see T-Dog right behind her.

"You gotta be strong for your little girl," he murmured, words that barely sunk in as her world turned upside down. The woman from the car was giving directions to Rick and Shane, telling them how to get to the farm house, while T-Dog and Glenn were helping Carol to the car. And then, someone else broke through the group and put a hand on Carol's arm. Andrea.

"I've got her. I'll go. You guys follow behind," Andrea insisted. "Carol. Carol, come on, honey, let's get you to the car." Carol nodded then, feeling the fear curling through her veins, paralyzing her. "Hey. Look at me. Breathe. Carol. Breathe." Carol nodded then, and Andrea opened up the back door for her. When both women were inside, the woman from the farm got in and backed the car out, turned around and hurried off in the direction she'd come from. Within minutes, the rest of the survivors' caravan was heading off down the dark highway as the taillights of the other car faded fast in the distance.

...

Daryl paced anxiously in the hallway, pulse pounding in his ears as he listened to the silence coming from the big bedroom Hershel and Patricia were holed up in with Sophia. After Maggie had left, Patricia and Beth had gone in with Hershel, but Beth had left moments later with a white pallor to her face. She hurried off to be with Jimmy, and Daryl was left wondering what the hell was happening in there.

Where was Carol? What was taking Maggie so damned long? Why wasn't the little girl awake and crying for her mama? He hated this waiting. He hated the feeling settling in his stomach, this helpless, hopeless feeling that was clawing at his gut from the inside out.

When the doorknob rattled, Daryl looked up to see Hershel come out wiping his hands, tinged pink from blood. Daryl felt his stomach knot up just then.

"She gonna be alright?"

"She was bleeding profusely, but I managed to stop it. But she's lost so much. She's very weak. She needs blood, or she's gonna die."

"Take mine," he said quickly. "She can't die. You gotta help her." Hershel held a hand up and shook his head.

"It's better if it comes from family. You might not be a match."

"Well her family ain't here," Daryl argued. "How much time's she got?"

"She's fading fast," Hershel admitted.

"Then we ain't got a choice, do we?" With that, he brushed past the older man and stepped into the room, where Sophia was lying so still and looked so small on the bed. She was covered in a white sheet, and her face was so pale that it was scary. He'd seen Merle that white before after an overdose, but to see Sophia like that, to see this little girl fading away right before his eyes was a shock to the system. Hershel stepped back into the room, and he nodded to Patricia, who stood at Sophia's bed side.

"We don't have a choice," Hershel said with a little nod to Daryl. Patricia moved to Daryl's side and she rolled up the sleeve on his shirt before spraying his arm down with alcohol. He winced at the sight of the needle, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't just let fade away. He had to help her. He couldn't look into that little girl's mama's eyes and tell her he just let her slip away.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The last time Daryl Dixon gave blood, Merle had been high on crystal meth and got into a fight with one of his suppliers. He'd ended up with a knife in the spleen, bled like a stuck pig and had to be rushed straight to surgery. The doctor had tested Daryl's blood, telling him he could save his brother's life. If Merle Dixon, a drug dealer—and user—could be spared death by Daryl's blood, surely this innocent little girl could be, too.

"You O-neg?" Hershel asked. He hadn't bothered to ask before. It wasn't really important when the girl was going to die anyway. But she was starting to pink up, and as she sat there putting a cotton ball and a piece of tape over Daryl's arm, he was pretty sure making the rash decision to let this man donate his blood had been the right way to go. He might have just saved her life.

"Huh?"

"I ain't sure."

"You don't know your own blood type?" Hershel asked.

"Ain't never had much need to know. They just took my blood, told me it would save Merle and that was it."

"Who's Merle?"

"My brother," Daryl replied, head swimming as he shifted in his chair.

"Hey. Sit back. You try and move too fast, you're gonna pass out."

"She gonna be ok?" Daryl asked, scooting closer to the edge of the chair.

"Sit back." Reluctantly, Daryl did as the old man said. "We might not know anything for a few hours. But her color's better. She just might pull through this." Hershel stepped around the bed, pulling the sheet back to check on Sophia's bandage. It was clean, and Hershel seemed pleased by that.

The door opened, and Patricia came in with a glass of water and a couple of cookies. She extended the plate out to him.

"Don't worry. They're not stale. Made 'em myself this morning," she promised. "Go on. You need to get something in you. You're about as pale as the girl was." Daryl nodded and reluctantly took a cookie from the plate, nibbling at it. It was good, so he popped the whole thing in his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of water.

"Thanks," he murmured quietly, as Patricia put the plate down on the bedside table.

"Now don't try to get up too fast, or you'll wind up on the floor." Daryl turned his gaze back to Sophia, who was lying so still on the bed. He leaned forward then, keeping a close eye on her.

"She's gonna wake up, right? She's gotta wake up."

"It's too early to tell. She could wake up any minute, or it could be hours." Daryl sighed heavily, and he started to stand. "What did I say? You need to—"

"Gotta take a piss."

"Bathroom's down the hall," Hershel said, motioning toward the door. "Need some help?"

"Know how to take a piss. Been doin' it for forty years all on my own." Hershel nodded, and Daryl started across the room, gripping one of the posts on the bed for support. But just as he reached the door, Sophia began to whimper.

"Mama," she cried out. "Mama." Daryl turned suddenly, moving back toward the bed, as Hershel grabbed a needle and a vial of some sort of liquid.

"Sophia? Sophia, it's alright. You're safe."

"It hurts," she sobbed. "It hurts!" Hershel tapped the side of the needle and bent down over the girl.

"What is that? What're you givin' her?"

"Morphine for the pain. She's feeling everything right now, every torn muscle, every stitch. That bullet tore clean through her, and when she fully wakes up, she'll be in a world of pain." Daryl swallowed hard, hand shaking against the bedpost as he gave an anxious nod in Hershel's direction. He had to trust that this man knew what he was doing. He'd already saved Sophia's life. Surely he wouldn't hurt her now.

Daryl stepped back and let the man work, and though he'd never been a praying man, he couldn't help but hope that someone out there somewhere was looking out for this little girl, because with as much bad shit this world already had to offer, she deserved something good. She deserved a chance.

...

Carol climbed the porch steps two at a time right behind Maggie, and Andrea was right at her heels. She passed a few wary faces as she followed Maggie into the house. At the bottom of the stairs, Maggie pointed up, as if she knew this was something Carol needed to do alone.

"Second door on the right," the young woman said softly. "I'll go outside, wait for the rest of your group."

"You want me to come with you?" Andrea offered. Carol shook her head.

"No. No. Thank you." She reached out and squeezed Andrea's hand before she started up the stairs, feeling her legs trembling with each creaking step. When she made it to the top of the stairs, she could hear someone moving around inside the room Maggie had directed her to. She wasn't ready for this. She'd spent the entirety of Sophia's life taking the blows from Ed so that he wouldn't put his hands on their daughter. But he'd gotten rough with her, pulled her firmly by the arm a time or two, and she had left him, really left him. And then she'd gone back. And she felt like a failure. She hadn't done enough to make sure her little girl was safe. Even taking each and every beating that Ed doled out hadn't protected Sophia from the world.

The moment Carol had happened upon Ed's body in the tent, the first thing she felt before she felt the pang of nausea hit her was a wave of relief that he was dead and Sophia was safe. And now her little girl was hurt, maybe dying, and she felt powerless to help.

Just as she took a step toward the room, a form came turning sharply around the corner and nearly smacked into her. He was wearing a black button up shirt and a pair of jeans that were a little big on him but would work for now. Judging by his damp hair and the mud splatter that was still evident along the side of his neck, she couldn't help but assume he must have found Sophia near the water.

He stepped around her, trying to get past, but as she tried to move out of his way, she crossed into his path even more.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as he stepped heavily on her foot.

"Shit. I'm sorry," he grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes, those _thank you for saving the world_ eyes that made him feel about as big as a church mouse under a grand piano. He'd never had anybody depend on him before, never felt needed. But when she looked at him, he saw so much in those eyes that it scared him. He owed her nothing, but he felt a tug in his heart, a yearning for her approval somehow. And he didn't know what to expect, but he certainly didn't expect her to throw her arms around his neck.

He stumbled backward briefly, putting a hand against her back and letting the corner catch him before he could fall.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I just…thank you."

"I had her," he murmured, as she squeezed him tighter. "And then she was gone."

"You found her," Carol whispered. "I don't know how to..." The door to the second bedroom opened wide, and Hershel came walking out.

"You the girl's mama?" he asked.

"I'm Carol," she sniffled, wiping at her tear-filled eyes.

"I'm Hershel," the man replied with a solemn nod.

"He saved her life," Daryl replied quietly.

"I'm not here to take all the credit, son," Hershel said with a shake of his head. "You did your fair share of that yourself." Daryl felt the knot in his stomach begin to tighten, and he took a step back when Carol wiped at her nose and stepped toward the bedroom.

"She's ok?"

"She's gonna be ok. She's weak, but she's stable." Daryl turned then and started down the stairs, and Hershel cleared his throat. "If it wasn't for Daryl, she wouldn't be here. He gave her blood, and she's getting stronger."

"He did?" Carol asked, sniffling again and looking toward the stairs.

"He did," Hershel said with a nod. "And I'd better go check on him before he overexerts himself and passes out. You can sit with your girl. Hold her hand. Let her know you're here. I've given her something for the pain, and she'll probably be out for a couple of days. That's good. She needs to heal." Carol took a deep breath, and she choked back a sob.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

...

"Whoa. Ok, you need to sit down," Andrea insisted, moving in to help Daryl steady himself as he leaned against the porch railing. "Here. Sit. Now." Daryl let her help him sit on the porch steps, and she sat down beside him.

Patricia, Jimmy and Beth were gathered by the door when Hershel came walking out, and Daryl looked up briefly to acknowledge the older man.

"The rest of their group is coming," Maggie said quietly.

"You told them where we are?" Beth asked, holding onto Jimmy's arm.

"Maggie, I wish you hadn't done that," Hershel said with a shake of his head.

"That little girl almost died today." She looked at Jimmy briefly, who swallowed hard and looked away, overcome with guilt. "She needs her people. And her people are stuck out there on the road. Who knows how many herds are headed their way?

A pair of lights appeared way down the drive, and Daryl stood when another set appeared, and then another.

"That's them. They're comin'."

"Your people are welcome to stay here, so long as they don't disturb the land and respect the fact that this is _my_ property." He turned back to Maggie. "You can tell them. I've got a patient to get back to." He looked at Daryl. "I'm a God fearing man, but times are changing, and I won't stand for disrespect. Your group respects my wishes, and you're free to stay until the girl is well. This home has been in my family for a hundred and fifty years, and protecting it, protecting my family, that's all that matters. You understand?" Daryl swallowed hard and nodded. Then the old man was gone, and Maggie shook her head.

"He's scared," she said. "My step-momma died last week, and he had to put her down. He's losing everything, and this farm is the one thing he feels like he can control. He's a good man. An honest man. But don't cross him, because he means what he says."

The RV rolled up first, and before long, the whole group was out on the lawn, and Maggie and Patricia were directing them to a spot between the house and the barn where they could park the vehicles and set up camp. And Daryl watched the scene play out, the group setting up tents, ready to play house again like one big family.

He took a pack of cigarettes out of his damp shirt pocket and lit one up, bowing his head as he listened to the soft sobs coming from the open upstairs window, as Carol sat vigil at Sophia's bedside. And all he could think about was how he should have reached out, should have pulled Sophia back, should have gotten her out of there sooner. He kept playing it over and over again in his mind, and each time, he could almost hear the sound of the bullet tearing her flesh, he could see the light leaving her eyes, he could feel the air leave his lungs as the sound of hooves as the deer went sprinting into the distance. It was like slow-motion, watching her fall, watching the blood stain through her shirt and begin to pour out of her.

He felt sick then, and he leaned his head forward, waiting for the nausea to pass. And he sat there until the last tent was built, until the last of the group had settled down for the night, until Patricia and Jimmy and Beth and Maggie were all inside and the night was silent.

And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped at the warmth of her touch. She moved to sit beside him on the porch, and the porch light illuminated the redness of her nose, the puffiness of her eyes from crying, the deep blue that held such strength in her gaze.

"Don't," she whispered, shaking her head. "I see it. I see what you're doing, and you need to stop." Daryl flinched as Carol turned toward him. "What you did today? Nobody's ever done anything like that for me or for my little girl before. Her own daddy…he never…he didn't have a bit of good in him. Not in the end." She swallowed hard. "What you did for her? I'll never forget it, and I want to thank you." She placed her hand on his arm, and it seemed to warm him all the way through.

"She's gonna be ok." He felt his mouth go dry as she leaned toward him.

"Hershel told me what you did for her. How you gave her your blood." She choked back a sob then, and she wiped at her eyes. "Because of you, my little girl has a chance. Thank you." She leaned toward him then, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek, and then she was gone, heading back into the house, and he sat there, face burning from her touch, heart pounding in his chest, and he suddenly felt like everything was spinning, only this time it wasn't from the blood loss.

He got up, pulling another cigarette from his pack, and he headed off into the darkness with the warmth of her touch still lingering in the back of his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _Carol winced in pain as scooped water into her hand and splashed it over her shoulder, running her long fingers over the prickling skin. She was sure he'd bruised her all the way to the bone, and the bruise along her upper arm clearly laid out the pattern of fingers. He'd caught her daydreaming instead of finishing patching the hole on his shirt, and he'd just about lost it. Thankfully, Sophia had been playing with Carl Grimes in Lori's tent at the time._

 _She pulled the compact mirror out of her purse, one she'd used far too many times to aide in spotting the visible bruises. She knew no amount of makeup could hide that one, so she chose a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat and prayed that nobody would question her about it. The women knew. Jacqui and Andrea had caught Ed manhandling her one day, and Lori had barged in on one particularly rough beating and had taken Carol off to clean her up, even insisting that Shane could 'take care of the problem.'_

 _As much as Carol had prayed him dead, even had thoughts of finishing him off herself, a part of her was so broken, so accustomed to the way things were with Ed that she just didn't feel she had the energy to even leave him. She'd leave him for less than a day, sometimes a little longer, and she'd go running right back, clutching Sophia's hand and promising her that daddy would be better this time. They'd been empty promises, and Sophia had been smart enough to know better, and though she never said anything, the look was always in her eyes. The pity toward her mother for having to put up with such a horrible man, the fear that one day, he'd go too far, that one day he'd come for her, too._

 _She dried herself off and pulled the warm shirt over herself, feeling the heat envelop her almost immediately. She groaned softly and wiped at her forehead, pulling through her bag to find something, anything that would be more comfortable than the pair of jeans she'd been wearing for three days. She settled on a pair of khaki capris and hoped the bruises on the backs of her legs could be chalked up to stumbling about the camp and bumping into things. She could always make up a story that she'd gotten up in the night and fell. That was a tried and true excuse that had gotten her though many a difficult conversation in the past. Yes, she would use that._

 _The loud revving of an engine startled her, and she heard several feet bustling past the tent as they hurried toward the sound. She could hear guns cocking and people scrambling to get into a defensive position. Curiosity got the best of her, and she stepped out of the tent to see a beat up old pickup with a motorcycle in the back coming right into the center of their camp._

 _She could hear Shane shouting at the driver, who Carol could barely make out through the dusty, dirty windshield. But it was the man climbing out of the passenger's side that caught her attention. Tall and lean with sweat-damp hair, firm muscles that weren't too overly obvious, a gun in one hand, steady and sure as he hoisted something over his shoulder. It looked like a crossbow._

 _She couldn't make out the conversation, but she noticed the way he looked to the other man, taller and thicker, a wide grin spread on his face like he'd found the fountain of youth. His hair was shaved into a buzz cut, and he had a foul mouth, which she could already tell from the way he ordered the other man around the truck to unload his 'fuckin' bike' because they were moving in. She watched as the other one—the younger one—followed the other man's commands. He called him brother, and it was like watching a child looking up to their father, hanging on their every word and command, afraid to step out of line in fear of getting beat down. And in that moment, she thought that maybe she'd found the one person on the whole damned planet that might know exactly what it was to suffer in silence and pray like hell you wake up in the morning with your heart still beating._

The sound of wood smacking against the dull flat of a long-dead tree stump and the pull of aching muscles in her lower back had Carol waking as the early morning light shone through the slats at the sides of the pull-down shades. She groaned softly and felt a soft squeeze against her fingers. She was half-sitting in the bedside chair and half-laying along the bed with her hand wrapped around Sophia's. She looked up and blinked tiredly as she gazed upon Sophia's still form. But she felt the squeeze again, and she looked down to see Sophia's fingers move again.

...

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to her little girl's hand, and she ran her hand up the child's arm.

"You're ok," Carol whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Sophia's forehead. Warm but not feverish. A good sign. She let out a slow breath and said a silent thank you to whoever or whatever was looking out for her little girl.

"She's gonna be just fine," a voice said from nearby. Carol startled slightly and turned to see Hershel walk into the room and come right over to Sophia's bed. He picked up one hand in his and kept his fingers on her wrist, opening up a sliver pocket watch to keep a check on her pulse. Carol waited patiently, and she watched the way his brow crinkled, and she felt her stomach drop, dreading bad news. But it ever came. Instead, he just laid Sophia's hand back against the bed and moved to get a needle ready.

"What's that?"

"An antibiotic," he said quietly. "She's getting stronger, and there's no sign of infection, but this is for good measure." Carol nodded and watched as Hershel gave Sophia the medicine, closing her eyes and squeezing her little girl's hand. She had to trust that this man could see her daughter through this. He'd already done so much and gotten Sophia this far.

"Thank you. Thank you for helping her."

"If he wasn't for Daryl, she would've died." He eyed her. "He doesn't talk much. He carries a lot around with him. Seems to me like he's blaming himself."

"I don't know him that well," Carol admitted. "He and his brother joined our group just a few weeks ago, and they pretty much stayed to themselves. His brother was…well, Daryl's nothing like his brother. Daryl went out and hunted, brought food back to the camp. He's a good man." Carol sighed heavily, and she put her hand against her stomach, closing her eyes at the hunger pangs.

"Go on downstairs. Patricia and Beth are making breakfast for everyone. Get yourself something to eat. You need to keep up your strength for your girl." Carol nodded. "You're no good to her just sitting here and starving yourself."

"Thank you." He just nodded and began to open Sophia's bandage to check the wound. She gave her daughter one more kiss on the forehead before heading out and down the stairs to join the others. Instead of finding Patricia and Beth in the kitchen, she found just Beth, who looked over her shoulder and spared a small smile for the new guest.

"How's your little girl?" she asked, eyes wide with worry and concern.

"She's strong," Carol said softly, nodding a silent thank you before turning toward the dining room. _A lot stronger than me._

At the table, T-Dog's face lit up when he saw Carol, and she watched as Patricia tended to his wound, gently dabbing at it with a washcloth before putting some ointment on it.

"How's it looking?" Carol asked, crossing her arms and stepping up behind Patricia,

"He's gonna be fine. No fever. Won't lose the arm either."

"Good to know," T said with a smirk. "How's Sophia?"

"She's a fighter," Carol replied, feeling a little numb as Patricia looked up at her sympathetically. She listened to the dishes clanging together in the kitchen, and for the first time in her entire life, the smell of eggs cooking made her stomach turn. It was all too much; too much normal while her daughter was upstairs recovering from a gunshot wound. What the hell was wrong with this world?

The groan of rubber table ends against the hardwood floor made Carol jump, and she looked over as Maggie pushed a folding table up by the family table. The two looked at one another for a moment, and Maggie offered an apologetic wince at the offending sound, and then Carol was heading out toward the door for some fresh air.

"What the hell did you expect me to say?" a male voice said, as Carol paused just before the screen door.

"I don't want to hear you say anything. Not one word. You had me convinced that I was alone, that my husband was dead, that I…that all Carl and I had in this world was you."

"I told you. I told you what happened, Lori."

"Shane," she hissed, "it doesn't matter what you told me. What matters is that this— _this_ —is over. I love my husband, I love my son, and they're what's important."

"That's how it is?"

"That's how it is." Carol wasn't one to eavesdrop. She'd spent her entire marriage avoiding lingering too long at doorways or in hallways, because if Ed ever suspected she was snooping on a private phone conversation or checking up on him, there was hell to pay. But she was frozen, exhausted, weary, and she felt like, even with them being outside, she was intruding on a very private conversation, one that made her stomach twist up into knots.

But when she heard the heavy clunking of Shane's boots, she assumed he'd stalked away. So she let herself outside, only to find Lori leaning against the porch railing on one side of the porch and Shane on the other, both looking at Carol like they were surprised to see her.

"Morning," Carol said meekly, ducking her head as she squinted into the sunlight.

"Hey, honey, how's Sophia?" Lori asked, flashing a glance at Shane as if to warn him not to open his mouth. He scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair before stalking off into the house.

"She's better, I think," Carol murmured. "She's resting."

"Good," Lori murmured. "She's gonna be fine." The smell of breakfast cooking wafted through the door, and Lori groaned.

"You ok?" Carol asked, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"I'm just…not hungry," Lori muttered.

"Me neither," Carol replied with a shake of her head. "But we should both try to eat. It's better than garbanzo beans and stale chips, right?" Lori smiled a little at that, and Carol gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Have you seen Daryl?"

"Yeah. Saw him stalk over toward his tent earlier," she said with a wave of her hand. "Muttered something about too many damned people in this damned house."

"Oh," Carol said with a little smile. "Thanks." Lori nodded and headed into the house, while Carol headed off toward the cluster of tents placed under the shade of some big oak trees.

She passed by Rick and Carl at the tree stump. Carl was watching with amusement as his dad tried to teach him the proper way to chop firewood, though the sheriff was doing a pretty poor job of it himself. She couldn't help but smile at that, but her smile was only short lived, as she approached the tents to hear a grunt of frustration from somebody nearby.

She could hear muffled curses as she neared a small tent that she recognized as Daryl's, and she peeked into the open flap to see him on his haunches, stuffing things into a backpack. Her gaze moved to the raised, ridged scars along his back that crossed around and through two big, dark tattoos under his shoulder blade. She couldn't help but wonder where those came from, though she knew she could never dare ask him. She watched the way his muscles tensed and moved under his skin as he worked, and she thought about walking away and leaving him to his work before the toe of her shoe caught a twig and snapped it, causing Daryl to turn quickly, tugging a flannel shirt with the arms cut off over his arms and shoulders. He looked like he wanted to mouth off at his intruder until he saw who was there, and his expression softened somewhat.

"The hell you doin' sneakin' around?" he asked. The moment the words were out of his mouth, she could see that he regretted it.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, deciding to ignore the biting words for now. Despite the rough around the edges persona he exuded, she knew he wasn't a bad guy.

"Yeah. Hunting."

"Daryl, there's food here," she said with a wave of her hand toward the house. Daryl scoffed and slung his pack over one shoulder and his crossbow over the other.

"Ain't much for crowds." He pushed past her and out of the tent, and she decided to try again.

"You should stay close," she offered. "We all know what can happen out there. We just got Sophia back, thanks to you, and we don't need to be splitting up again—"

"Worry 'bout your kid, not me. I can take care of myself," he snapped, turning and stalking off toward the field. She watched him walk away, and she felt the tears prickle at her eyes. She'd learned long ago to keep her nose out of other people's affairs, but this man saved her daughter's life. If it hadn't been for him, Sophia would have died out there from exposure or a bite. Did he really not understand how grateful she was to him? She couldn't help but wonder that as she started back to the house. She took one last look over her shoulder to find him disappearing out of sight over the hill, and the knots in her stomach tightened.

But she was soon distracted from her thoughts when a rambunctious Carl came rushing up, nearly smacking right into her as she reached the porch steps. She reached out, steadying him.

"Is Sophia awake yet?" he asked with wide, hopeful eyes. Carol shook her head.

"No, honey, but she's getting better."

"Do you think—could I sit with her for a little while?" he asked. Carol felt her throat tighten, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I think she would love that," Carol said with a nod. Carol gave her a smile before he hurried up the steps and into the house to see his friend, and Carol felt her heart swell, thankful that, at the very least, her daughter had a friend in this messed up world.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _He knew the second the brakes squealed on that beat up old Ford that his daddy had seen him and that he'd be in for a beating tonight. He stopped just inside old Mrs. Garvey's trailer door, wondering if it was too late to duck inside, but when he saw his daddy stop right out front, he knew he was caught._

 _"Thank you for helping me carry my groceries in, young man," the old woman said, pressing something into the palm of his hand. He looked down to find five dollars and a piece of red-wrapped cinnamon candy. He said nothing. "I know it's not much."_

 _"No, ma'am. You don't hafta…"_

 _"Nonsense. A boy your age needs a little money in his pocket. Now you don't tell anybody, you hear? They find out you have five dollars, they'll take it from you. Especially that brother of yours. He's up to no good."_

 _"Merle? Shoot, he ain't nothin' to worry about," Daryl said with a shrug._

 _"Well, he likes lighting off fire crackers and scaring my birds," she said sternly. "Now you're a good boy, Daryl. Don't you forget that."_

 _"Yes, ma'am," he replied, blinking up at her as she closed the door and left him out there alone._

 _"You get your ass over here boy!" his daddy called from the truck. Red-faced, Daryl stuck his hands deep into his pocket and deposited the candy and the money there for safekeeping, wedged in between his lucky penny and a cool rock he'd picked up out by the creek._

 _Daryl slowly made his way across the yard toward the street, still limping from the beating he'd taken the night before._

 _"The hell you think you're doin'?"_

 _"I was…was helpin' Mrs. Garvey with her groceries, daddy. That's all," Daryl insisted. Mr. Dixon leaned out the pickup window, eyeing his son up and down in that way he always did before giving him a lashing, verbal or otherwise._

 _"What'd she give you?"_

 _"Huh?" Daryl asked._

 _"What'd she give you for doin' it?" Daryl remembered the old woman's words, and he clutched the side of his pants tightly between his fingers. A sweat broke out on his brow as he tried to figure what would be better. Telling his daddy the truth and getting the money taken away or lying and risking a beating if he was ever found out._

 _"N-nothin', Daddy. Honest," Daryl lied, wincing at the smirk that spread across his father's face._

 _"Boy, you mean to tell me you're that damned stupid? Ain't nothin' in this world comes free, Daryl. People take advantage of ya, work ya for free, and you're too damned stupid to know the goddamned difference."_

 _"Daddy, I…"_

 _"Get on home 'fore I beat the tar outta you in the middle of the street."_

 _"Yes sir," Daryl said glumly. Mr. Dixon sped off, and a chuckle from behind a tree got Daryl's attention. Merle stepped out with his arms folded across his chest. At sixteen, Merle was the biggest kid he knew, and he was also the meanest. But he looked out for his little brother from time to time. "What're you laughin' at? You know Daddy's gonna have my hide when we get home."_

 _"You deserve it, bro," Merle snickered. "You really carry in that old lady's groceries for free?"_

 _"Well, sure," Daryl said with a shrug. "She needed help."_

 _"Lots of folks need, help, Darylina. The key is, you gotta step up and take what's yours. How the hell you ever gonna get anywhere if ya keep on lettin' people use ya for free?"_

...

 _"Because of you, my little girl has a chance."_

 _"What you did for her? I'll never forget it."_

The back of his neck burned as he walked through the woods. He couldn't stop thinking about her words, about how grateful she'd been, about how she'd thrown her arms around him and hugged him and thanked him so many times. He'd never wanted the praise or the thanks, and he hadn't expected them either, considering his search and rescue mission had ended with Sophia getting shot.

He thought back to when he was seven and he'd wandered off and got lost in the woods. Nobody came looking for him. He was gone for three days and nobody even noticed. His brother had been in juvie, and his old man had been on a binge, and when he'd come home, he hadn't come home to a frantic parent or a bunch of flashing lights from police cars. He'd had to crawl in through the kitchen window and make some supper, and then after his bath, his daddy had returned home, piss drunk and ready to take out his stress and anger on somebody, and Daryl had caught a beating. But not for getting lost in the woods. No, his daddy had never even known about that.

He didn't like thinking back to his childhood. In fact, at first, he hadn't even liked to look at Carol or Sophia, because he knew the kind of man that Ed was. Ed Peletier reminded him so much of his daddy, and he had seen the way Sophia had cowered and Carol had seemed numb to his actions. He hadn't ever seen him put a hand on her, because if he had, he probably would have beat the ever-loving shit out of him. But he'd kept his distance.

He remembered a few nights after he and Merle had arrived at the quarry, he'd heard her sobbing, and he'd peeked out of his tent to see her hunched over a wash bucket, wiping at her face and hands, shoulders shaking as she tried to desperately wash something away. Blood.

He'd turned his back, promising himself he could forget, because he had to, because it wasn't his business. But he'd never gotten that image out of his head.

And then Ed had died, and he'd seen a fire in Carol that he'd never expected. From the ashes, Carol had risen, broken but stronger. He'd seen the hurt in her the day she'd driven a pickaxe through Ed after the attack. He'd seen years of pent of hate and anger and sadness come spilling out at that moment, the moment she got to take it out on Ed for the first and only time.

He remembered the way she'd slumped to the ground after, as thick cords of blood snaked into the dirt with bits of flesh and bone. She'd cried for what seemed like an hour, but all it had taken was his hand on her shoulder, and she'd looked up at him, eyes wet with tears, and he couldn't understand. Was she crying over Ed? Was she crying because she was free? He couldn't read her. Hell, the last time he'd cried was at his mama's funeral, and when his daddy had up and disappeared, he'd imagined he was dead and the world was a better place.

Sophia hadn't cried over her daddy's grave. Instead, she'd held tight to her mama, as if being strong for her, as if making sure she was alright. And he had had to look away. He knew Sophia would never shed a tear over Ed, because she saved her tears for the ones she loved.

The wind took a turn, and there was a chill to it. A storm was coming, and Daryl knew the smart thing to do would be to turn back now. But when he caught sight of the creek up ahead, he pressed on. To hell with getting caught in the rain. His whole life had been a fucking downpour.

...

Thunder shook the warped glass in the windows of the old farmhouse, and the rain was heavy on the rooftop. Carol shivered as she pulled the blanket snug around Sophia, tucking it around her to keep her warm. She rubbed her arms to keep warm, dreading the coming winter. She'd never liked winter before, and it was sure to be hell from now on.

A knock at the door had her turning to find Andrea standing there with a steaming mug.

"Brought you some coffee."

"It's freezing," Carol murmured, gratefully accepting the warm mug. "A cold front in the summer?"

"The world really did change, huh?" Andrea moved over to the side of the bed and smile down at Sophia before glancing back at Carol. "How's she doing?"

"She's hanging in there. Hershel's keeping her comfortable. She's healing. No infection." Carol swallowed hard and glanced toward the window.

"He's not back yet," Andrea said quietly. "But you know Daryl. He can take care of himself."

"I don't understand him," Carol said with a shake of her head. "I don't know if he blames himself for…for this or if he's just angry at me."

"Why would he be angry with you?"

"I don't know," Carol said quietly, shoulders slumping. "If I'd kept a better eye on her, if I'd…"

"Hey, stop it," Andrea said quickly, holding up a hand. "Don't do that. It was an impossible situation. If you'd moved, you'd have drawn the walkers on you and on Lori. You know there was nothing you could do." Carol swallowed hard, not entirely convinced, but she still hated that she'd been so close to Sophia under those cars, yet so far away. All she could do was stare helplessly as her little girl ran off with a walker on her heels.

"She's gonna wake up," Carol said quietly. "And then what happens? She lives, and then we keep running? I'm so tired."

"I know," Andrea said gently, moving to stand beside Carol.

"You know, with Ed, I just thought, ok, he's a coward, so he's going to do whatever it takes to stay alive. He's going to fight dirty, and if I stay close, maybe we'll live, too. But without him? I can…I can breathe again." Andrea gently squeezed Carol's shoulder.

"Just keep breathing," Andrea urged. Carol gave her a look.

"You found a way? After Amy?"

"I don't want to die," Andrea said quietly. "I thought that's what I wanted. Watching Amy die? Putting her down after she turned? It was the worst nightmare I could ever imagine, but it was real, you know? But Amy wouldn't want me to give up. She'd tell me to fight. She would kick my ass and tell me to stop crying." She wiped at her eyes. "This world is harsh, it's broken. But look at your little girl. She's living through a nightmare, but she's surviving. She's getting stronger. She's living." Carol swallowed the lump in her throat as Andrea took her hand. "You're both getting stronger, and you're gonna make it."

"Thank you," Carol whispered.

"Anytime. I'll kick you in the ass, and you can kick me in the ass, and we'll just keep pushing each other. Sound good?" Carol laughed at that, and she nodded, sniffling.

"Sounds good."

"You need anything?"

"I'm alright. I just want to sit with her for a while," Carol replied quietly.

"The others were worried, so I thought I'd come check on you. You've been up here most of the day."

"I don't want her to wake up alone," Carol replied. Andrea nodded in understanding and gave her friend's hand a squeeze.

"Ok. Just holler if you need something." Carol nodded and turned her attention back to Sophia as Andrea left the room.

After a while, Carol could hear boots treading quietly out in the hall, pacing, as if trying to make a decision. She furrowed her brows and listened as she heard the steps stop just outside the door. She bit her lip and got up, moving toward the door, and just as she opened it, she saw him startle like a wild animal caught in a corner. He had been crouching to place something next to the door, but he stood quickly, soaking wet, gripping something in his hand.

"Daryl?" she asked. "You're soaking wet."

"M'fine," he grumbled. He looked down, and Carol ran her hand over the object in his hand. Sophia's doll.

"Where'd you find this?"

"In the creek. Sophia went back for it," he explained. "That's when she got shot. I figured it must've meant a lot to her." He cleared his throat. "M'sorry for what I said to ya this morning." Carol watched him.

"You found her doll," she said quietly, as the tears filled her eyes again. "Thank you." And then she was doing it again, looking at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. And her arms were around his neck, and she was hugging him. He froze for a moment, before he brought his hand to her back, and he couldn't help but smell the scent of her hair. Lavender. It surprised him how good it felt to have her arms around him, to feel her warmth against him. And she was trembling, choking back a sob, and Daryl couldn't help but feel a lump forming in his own throat.

"Hey," he murmured, gently patting her back. "M'gettin' you all wet. Gonna catch a cold." She didn't make a move to get away, though, and he let her cling to him, and he wrapped his other arm around her, because he knew that if anything, she just needed to feel close to someone in that moment. And when she finally relaxed a little and pulled away, she wiped at her eyes and sniffled, blinking back her tears.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, noting the way he eyed her and the way he fidgeted anxiously, as if he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do next.

"Don't gotta apologize." He nodded toward Sophia. "I'll leave ya be. Better find some dry clothes."

"You can come back, if you want. You can sit with us. I think she'd like that." Daryl handed her the doll, and he turned to leave. "Daryl?" He turned toward her. "You don't see it, do you?"

"Don't see what?" he asked, staring at her, waiting for her.

"You're more than what you think you are," she said quietly. "I know what it's like to be beaten down so much you think you're worthless. I know. But you aren't. What you did for Sophia? You…you've given her a chance. You've given me…everything. I just wanted you to know." And then she turned from the door and went back to her little girl's bedside, and Daryl stood staring at the door, feeling a tugging in his chest and a longing to go back to her. But instead, he continued down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Carol stepped out onto the porch of the old farm house, stretching as the warmth of the morning sun shone upon her face. It had been the best morning she'd had since well before the Turn. Sophia was awake and talking, and she'd even gotten a little bit of breakfast down. She was still in a lot of pain, which Hershel was managing with painkillers. She'd overheard Maggie offering to go with Glenn into town on a pharmacy run for more supplies and medications. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined they'd have had the luck to have found the Greene farm. Whatever happened next, she would never forget what Hershel and Daryl had done to save her daughter's life.

As she was heading toward the small group of tents, she heard voices coming from around the house. She attempted to ignore it until she heard her daughter's name brought up. Her curiosity was piqued. She stepped around by the trellis, looping her fingers through the slats, peering through to see Andrea and Shane talking. Shane was standing with one foot propped on an old tire, while Andrea had her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that I think it's careless and stupid to be using valuable resources on one little girl."

"You can't be serious, Shane."

"Look, it's sad, it's awful, I know that. But that's the world we live in today. And usin' up all kinds of antibiotics and painkillers on one little girl?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Andrea scoffed. "What if it was Lori? What if it was Carl? Or Rick? You'd be pulling for Hershel to use whatever her could to get them better." At Shane's silence, Carol swallowed hard and watched Andrea shook her head. "We're guests here, you know that, right? You aren't in charge here. Hershel's food, his clothes, his medicines are _his_."

"Yeah. For now," Shane replied hotly.

"Is this about Lori?" Andrea said with a heavy sigh. "Whatever you had with her, whatever kind of set up ended the second Rick walked into camp that day. I don't know what you said to her, what you convinced her to believe, but she's clearly over you." Shane's face fell. "You're a hothead, and you need to get yourself under control before you fuck up everything we've got here. If we play our cards right, we might just have a place to stay for a while."

"What I said about that little girl…it's true. She's little and innocent and that's gonna get her killed. Hershel's just pushin' back the inevitable."

"She's a child, and her life is just as valuable as anyone else's," Andrea shot back. Shane raised an eyebrow then and cocked his head to the side.

"Is it? We gotta look at the hard facts here, girl. We got a scared little girl with a weak mama. Can't take care of themselves, so we gotta pick up the slack."

"That's not fair, Shane."

She'd heard enough. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and the prickling of tears in her eyes was more than enough to bring her back down on the level she'd been operating at for the last few days. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on Shane from now on. And now the wheels were turning as she decided that it was time to make a change.

She set her sights back on the group of tents and silently moved away from the trellis. She caught a glimpse of Daryl moving out of his tent and off toward the pasture. She figured he was going for some water, and it was as good an opportunity as any to talk to him. So, she quickly grabbed another bucket and headed off to join him.

By the time she reached the well, he was almost finished filling his bucket. She watched him for a moment, uncertain of her next words. She fidgeted with the bucket, but he seemed distracted by his own thoughts and didn't even acknowledge her.

"Sophia's been asking for you." Daryl's hand paused on the pump and he turned to see Carol walking over with an empty bucket. "She wants to thank you."

"I been busy," he said quietly.

"She wants to thank you for finding her doll. It meant a lot to her. I managed to scrub it up and sew the rips pretty good. She hasn't let it out of her sight since I gave it back to her." Daryl went back to pumping water into his own bucket. When it was full, he reached for hers. "Thank you." He just nodded. "Daryl?" Her voice broke then, and he looked up to see that she was fighting off tears. "She thinks you're mad at her. She thinks that you're mad because she got hurt."

"I ain't," he replied, handing her the bucket. "She don't need to be thinkin' that, 'cause it ain't so." He caught the glint of the sun in his eye, and he squinted. "Just tell her I ain't mad."

"Might sound better coming from you," she offered.

"Why you pressin' this?" he asked. "Why's it matter?" Carol took a deep breath and shifted her bucket into her other hand.

"She's a little afraid of you," Carol said quietly.

"Ain't got no need to be," he muttered.

"She's twelve, Daryl, and the only man she's ever known was Ed, and he wasn't exactly the best father there was. What I'm saying is that she…she doesn't know you, and she's afraid that she disappointed you. I don't expect you to understand."

"Sure I do," he replied. "Look, I'll talk to her. I'll…"

"You're good with a gun. I've seen you. I know you're more comfortable with a crossbow, but you're great with a gun, too. And I want you to teach me how to shoot." Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and looked back toward the house.

"Shane'd be the one to ask 'bout that."

"I'm not asking Shane. I'm asking you. Can you teach me?" Daryl eyed her for a moment, and he finally nodded.

"A'right. I can do that."

"And when Sophia's better, I want her to learn." This surprised Daryl, and Carol caught the look on his face. "I don't want my daughter to die. I want her to have a fighting chance, and if teaching her how to protect herself is what it takes, then I'm willing. I don't want her to be afraid. She's lived her whole life being so…fearful." Carol sniffled and felt the sting in her throat as she fought back the urge to cry. "Will you teach her?"

"If that's what ya want, I can teach her. Still think Shane would do a better job."

"I don't want him. I want you." Her words caught in her throat. "I want you to teach her, because I know you'll look out for her." She felt like her face was on fire in that moment, and he looked as nervous as a guy on a first date.

"Ok," he said quietly. "I can do that."

"Thank you," Carol murmured quietly, turning back toward the house with her bucket of water. She felt the load lighten, however, and she looked down to see his hand gripping the handle.

"I got it," he promised. She smiled a little, and she let him carry it for her, and she couldn't help but notice the way the muscles of his arms jumped a little as the strain of the weight pulled on him, and she found her gaze wandering to other areas as he walked ahead just a bit. She felt flush, staring at his backside as the sun beat down on them, and she felt a little ashamed that she was blatantly checking him out when things were so bad and everything was so crazy, but she was a woman with needs, and there was nothing wrong with looking. Nothing at all.

"Hey." Carol snapped her attention up just in time to avoid tripping over Lori's feet.

"Oh. Sorry," she muttered. Lori glanced at Daryl, who was already almost up to the house with the water, and then she looked at Carol with a raised eyebrow. She was lounging in the shade of one of the big oak trees, and Carol found herself blushing as she watched the grin spread over Lori's face.

"Oh, you're forgiven. You were…busy."

"Shut up," Carol murmured.

"Hey, I'm not judging," Lori said with a shrug. "Nothing wrong with looking. Besides, look what you had before." Carol stared at her friend for a moment. "Oh, come on. Ed was an asshole, and I'm not going to sit here and pretend he wasn't just because he's dead. Good riddance." Carol agreed, but she said nothing. "I won't pretend my marriage is perfect. Believe me, it's not." She saw the look of guilt in Lori's eyes, but she refused to say anything to make her friend feel worse. Carol knew that whatever had happened with Shane was none of her business, and she wasn't about to try and make it her business. "But Ed…honey, you deserve somebody who'll make you happy. Or, you know, a good orgasm or two."

"Lori!" Carol scolded, face reddening by the moment, as Lori made a silly face and tugged her down to sit down in the chair next to hers. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"You just…shouldn't. If he heard you saying those things, I just…I couldn't even face him."

"Why? Because it's true? You have a thing for him?"

"No!" Clearly, Lori didn't believe her. Her grin brightened. "Shut up. Just. Shut. Up."

"Alright," Lori said, shrugging her shoulders. At that point, something caught her attention. Maggie was riding a horse and leading another one along toward the house. Glenn came around one of the tents, and Lori stood quickly. "Excuse me." She took off toward Glenn and discreetly whispered something in his ear. After a confused look from Glenn and a few more words from Lori, Maggie came over to introduce Glenn to his ride.

When Lori came back over, Carol eyed her as she sat down.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," Lori said with a shrug. Lori was a terrible liar.

"Uh-huh," Carol replied with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, shut up," Lori replied, as Carol grinned and stifled a snort.

...

Daryl paced the hallway for a few minutes before finally gathering up the nerve to knock. There was no answer, but he opened the door anyway, to see Sophia lying in bed, wide awake clutching the doll. Her eyes brightened when she saw him, but then her face quickly fell, and she looked as scared as a church mouse.

"Hey, kid. How you feelin'?"

"I'm ok," she said quietly, looking down. "Mom said you found Eliza." She looked up briefly. "Thank you."

"Knew she meant a lot to you. Didn't want ya gettin' hurt for nothin', ya know?"

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," she said softly.

"Hey, nobody's mad at you, Soph," Daryl said quietly, stepping toward the bed. "You didn't do nothin' wrong."

"You're not mad?"

"'Course not," he said gruffly, clearing his throat. "Don't you worry 'bout that. You just get better, alright, kid?"

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, blinking those big, sad eyes a few times. Daryl saw the way she seemed to hug the doll to herself. Maybe Carol was right. Maybe the kid was a little scared of him.

"Y'know, when I was younger'n you, I got lost in the woods."

"You did?" she asked, as if it was the hardest thing in the world to believe.

"Sure did. Spent a couple days tumblin' around in the woods, freezin' my ass…uh, butt off."

"Who found you?"

"Nobody," he said. "Got myself outta the woods, but just by accident. Heard some noise along the highway, and I followed it. Good thing I knew the roads pretty good, or I probably never woulda found my way home."

"Were you scared?"

"Between you and me? Yeah, I was pretty damned scared." Sophia's face seemed to brighten then. "Think I cried for hours when I first got lost."

"I cried too," Sophia said weakly. "The walkers kept chasing me. I just kept running and running. Then you found me."

"It's a good thing, too. Somebody's gotta keep that Grimes kid grounded. Think you're just the girl to keep him on his toes, don't ya think?" Sophia grinned at that, and Daryl patted to top of her head. "You get some rest, alright?"

"Ok," she said with a grin, clearly not afraid anymore. He felt a tug at his heart, and he knew that if Merle could see him now, he'd give him all kinds of hell for being so soft. But Merle wasn't there, and sometimes, Daryl still felt like he was lost in the woods and all alone. Today, however, he felt like maybe he had a place here in this group, in this family. And as much as his head told him to stop thinking about tomorrow, he couldn't help but think that maybe there still was some hope for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Sophia!" Carol exclaimed from the doorway as she glanced at the bed and then at her daughter who was standing by the window. "Honey, you shouldn't be up."

"I feel better, Mama," Sophia insisted.

"That might be, but you should rest. You could break your stitches, or…"

"She's alright," Hershel assured Carol, coming up behind her. "I told her getting out of bed for a little bit might do her some good. I should have told you first, but don't worry. Sophia's healing just fine, and she's getting stronger every day." Carol breathed a sigh of relief at that, and she tried to calm her racing heart. No matter how much Sophia grew or how old she got, she was always going to be that helpless little baby she'd brought home from the hospital.

"She's really alright?" Carol asked softly, placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"No infection, the stitches are holding. She's getting stronger every day. Another week or two, she'll be good as new." Sophia grinned up at her mother when she heard the older man's words. Carol blinked back a few tears and grinned down at her daughter. If the girl was hurting in any way, she wasn't letting on. That was one thing about Sophia. She'd never shown her pain that much, if she'd felt it. When she was five, she'd sprained her ankle in such a way she'd had to wear it wrapped for almost a week. Still, she'd insisted on running and playing and riding her bike like nothing had happened. She was a fighter from the beginning, and she'd had to be strong living in that house.

"Well, I'll let you rest then. Want me to bring you anything?"

"Beth let me borrow a book," Sophia said with a shake of her head. She lifted it up off the nightstand and handed it to her mother. Carol smiled down at the book. _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer._

"Ah, this was one of my favorites," she said with a little smile.

"I haven't started reading it yet," Sophia replied, moving back to get in the bed. Carol pulled the blankets up to her middle.

"Well, how about we read it together? I haven't read to you since you were little enough to sit in my lap."

"Ok," Sophia said with a smile. Carol sat down at Sophia's side and opened the old book. It was an old library copy, and it had that old, book smell that Carol loved so much. And she began to read and continued until Sophia began to tire, and when the girl was sleeping, she left the book open at her bedside and silently slipped out to find Hershel in hall bathroom cleaning the few medical instruments he had.

"She sleeping again?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"That's normal. It's better if she rests as much as she can, but getting up and moving around is good for her, keeps her muscles strong, keeps her active."

"I just wanted to ask you," Carol began, "your medicines, everything you've used to help Sophia…it's a lot for one person. Why?"

"It is a lot," Hershel agreed with a nod.

"But you helped her, no questions asked," Carol murmured.

"Because I could help her. Believe me, it wasn't long ago when I was…very confused about the world. I thought those things out there just needed help, just needed medicine. My wife—Beth's mama—fell sick, and I tried like hell to save her life. And she slipped away, woke up and came after me. I kept her in there, did everything I could to try to help her, but she just…wasn't my wife anymore. One morning, she got out, and Beth...she nearly got Beth." Carol swallowed the lump in her throat, and she shivered. "The point is, I wasted precious medicine and prayer and time on something that…that was just a dream. My wife was gone the minute she was bit." He shook his head. "I put her down myself, out in the pasture, and I promised myself that I would focus whatever time I had left in keeping my family safe. Then your little girl comes along, shot, and I knew she was brought here for a reason."

"Daryl brought her here."

"Well, yes, that too," Hershel chuckled. "She's important. The world isn't over. It can't be. And if we can even think of making a life on this planet, we're going to need her. We're going to need Carl. We're going to need Beth. They're the future. They're our legacy from what the world used to be." Carol felt the lump grow in her throat, and smiled through the tears that sparkled in her eyes.

The heavy sound of boots on the stairs distracted her then, and she turned to see Daryl standing there watching her with a pack slung over his shoulder.

"How's she doin'?" he asked. Carol glanced toward the door and nodded with a smile on her face.

"She's better. She's resting."

"Good," he said with a little nod. He bit at his bottom lip for a second before he took a step up. "You ready?"

"Ready?"

"To go shootin'?"

"Now?" Carol asked.

"Sure. Good a time as any," he said with a shrug. Carol glanced at Hershel who had turned his attention back to cleaning his instruments, and she gave Daryl a little nod.

"Ok. Sounds good."

"A'right. I'll go get the helmet, and…"

"Wait. Helmet?"

"Yeah. We're takin' the bike." With that, he turned, and Carol felt an exhilarating flutter in her stomach at the idea of getting on the back of the motorcycle with Daryl. But she didn't have time to protest, as he was already on the way out the front door.

...

Carol stood by as Daryl stuffed a box of ammo into one of the side bags on the motorcycle. She watched the way he quickly checked the chambers on both guns before loading each of them up and stuffing them in the bag along with the ammo. He was good, and she knew she'd made the right choice in a teacher. Besides, this was going to give them more time to get to know one another, and of everyone in the group, he was the one she looked to, and she really wanted to know him better.

"You ready?" Daryl asked, passing the helmet over to Carol. She anxiously gripped the helmet and nodded, and he smirked.

"You ain't never rode before?"

"No. Never," she admitted.

"First time for everything," he said with a nod. "Guess you're gonna learn more'n guns today." She felt a shiver go up her spine in that moment when his steely blue gaze floated across hers and locked on it for a moment. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. "You ok?"

"Fine. Good," she promised. "I'm ready." Just as he was moving to sit down, someone whistled sharply, and Carol looked over to see Shane and Rick heading that way. Carol tensed, and Daryl glanced at her in that moment. She didn't notice him noticing her, as her gaze was fixed right on Shane's face.

"Daryl?" Shane asked.

"Got a problem?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Shane said. "How much ammo you taking?"

"Enough," Daryl replied gruffly. "Last I checked, ammo belongs to the group, not to you. I talked to Dale."

"Yeah, Dale," Shane snorted. "Figures. Look, I ain't sure this is the best time for this, man. We gotta save what ammo we got, you know?" He glanced at Carol, and she narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her head to the side a little.

"He's teaching me to shoot, not popping off rounds for the hell of it," she spoke up, getting an eyebrow raise out of Rick.

"Look, I ain't saying…"

"What do you want, Shane? Skilled shooters or dead weight you have to pick up the slack for?" Her tone was cutting, and she knew he knew exactly what she was talking about in that moment. Everything from his expression to his posture changed, and he ran his hand over the back of his head briefly.

"You just be careful out there," Shane replied quietly, turning on his heels and heading off in that half-cocked manner. Rick glanced over his shoulder at Shane and then back at Carol, and he turned his attention back to Daryl.

"You should take her out a ways. A few miles, at least. There's gotta be a few empty pastures you can take her shooting. Take her off where you can draw the sound away from here. Don't want a whole herd of those things coming at us."

"I got it," Daryl said with a nod, adjusting the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder.

"Ain't that I don't think you can teach her, but Shane's a certified instructor. Was."

"I trust Daryl," Carol replied. Daryl glanced at her for a moment before looking back at Rick.

"Alright," Rick said with a nod. "Try to be back before dark. Don't wanna send a search party after you." As he walked away, Carol heard Daryl snort, but if he was thinking of anything to say in rebuttal, he kept it to himself.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I think so," Carol replied, nervously eyeing him and then the bike. Daryl smirked and lowered himself onto the bike before nodding toward the helmet. "What about you?"

"M'good. Ain't gonna have you behind me without one of them on."

"Well, what's gonna protect me when you wreck, split your head open and I'm left stranded with broken legs and walkers coming after me?" Daryl eyed her, not sure how to take the dark comment, and when she grinned, he smirked and shook his head.

"Hop on," he said. She popped the helmet on and tightened the strap, and then she was sliding onto the bike behind him. He felt her hands at his sides, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't expected her touch to feel so damned good. She was warm behind him, and she was pressed against him so close, and he could feel the heat from between her legs against his ass as he started the engine and the bike rumbled to life. Christ, this was going to be a long few miles. "You hold on."

Her arms moved around his waist, and he felt her hands against his stomach, and he hoped she couldn't feel the way his breathing stuttered for just a moment. If she had noticed, she didn't let on, and he was grateful. He cast a glance back at the house briefly to see Rick watching with a pissed-off Shane at his side. He thought about asking Carol what that was all about, but he decided against it, and he took off down the gravel road toward the highway.

...

She was a natural. He'd taken her out a few miles to the pasture of a farm with the name Davis on the mailbox. Sure, her aim was off at first, but that was expected. But the second that gun was in her hand, and with a little direction from him, she was holding it like her hand was made for that gun.

"You think you're gettin' the hang of it?" he asked, stepping up behind her with his gun at his side. He hadn't used it yet. He was saving the bullets in case they ran into trouble or she decided she needed more practice.

"I think so," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. "But sometimes, I feel like I'm going to fall over or fall backward or something."

"Gotta get your footing right," he said with a nod. He stepped toward her but stopped.

"What?"

"Uh…I kinda gotta…well, here. Just stand like I'm standin'." His feet were firm on the ground, spaced appropriately apart to give him a good balance. He aimed his gun, moving his body accordingly to keep the gun straight.

"Like this?" she asked, mimicking his posture. He grinned a little. "What?"

"Nothin'. You just look like a badass."

"Oh, sure," she smirked. "That's me, alright."

"Hey, you gotta give yourself credit. You made it this far, ain't ya?"

"With help," Carol said quietly. "I don't want to have to depend on someone to protect me. I depended on Ed, and look how far that got us." She shook her head. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You ain't," Daryl replied.

"I am," she replied. "I cook, I do the laundry, and I take care of my girl, but I can't protect anybody. I couldn't even protect her." Daryl felt the weight of her words, and he nodded. "I don't want to be a burden anymore."

"Alright," he said quietly.

"Now, this is right?" she asked, indicating her posture. Daryl chewed his lip and moved around behind her, watching the way she stood firmly on the ground, back straight, a little stiff, and he couldn't help but take a peek at her ass and the way her khaki cargo pants clung to her body like they were made just for her.

"Looks good," he said without thinking. She looked over her shoulder, a pink tinge to her cheeks. "Uh, but you're a little stiff. Gotta relax. Gotta let your body move. Stand there stiff as a board, and you're gonna fall over." Spread your legs. Carol smirked, and Daryl ignored her. "Face forward." She did as she was told. "You can bend your knees a little. Don't lock 'em up. Good. That's good." He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her. "M'gonna put my arms around ya now. That ok?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she teased.

"Stop," he muttered. Carol chuckled then, but her laughter was short lived when she felt his calloused hands on her forearms, moving up to her wrists. His fingers brushed over her wrists, and she could feel the heat of his breath against her shoulder as he pressed into her. She trembled but tried to keep her focus, eyeing up a tin can Daryl had set up on a fence post for target practice. "You feel that?"

"Feel…what exactly?" she asked, as her heart raced in her chest. She heard his breath catch for a moment, and she smiled.

"The way you're standin', how relaxed ya are? Don't tense up." _Easier said than done_ , she thought, as she felt the scrape of his stubble against her shoulder. She nodded. "Now breathe and squeeze the trigger." Carol took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before squeezing the trigger. The satisfying _ting_ of the bullet obliterating the tin can and sending it flying off the fence post run in her ears, and she let out a little laugh when Daryl let go of her. "Good. You got this." Carol let out a breath of relief as a triumphant smile crossed her face.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I do."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She was holding him so tight as the wind whipped past them both. His skin felt warm where she touched him, even through his clothes, and he couldn't get past the memory of being pressed up against her from behind, of moving his hands over her arms, of feeling her heart beating as she leaned back against his chest. He'd never felt like this, never been this surprised by someone in his life. The last person he'd expected to surprise him like this had been Carol. And it wasn't because she wasn't the typical hot blonde with big boobs that Merle liked to bring home from the bar on Friday nights, but it was because he never expected he'd have feelings like this for someone who was a genuinely good person. He'd had relationships before, and he knew his way around a woman, but every woman he'd ever thought he might be falling for turned out to be exactly the opposite of what he needed. He'd found himself pulled into these strange dependent relationships where he allowed himself to be used, and every time—every. fucking. time.—he would realize he was in a relationship that mirrored his parents, only it wasn't physical abuse, it was mental and emotional abuse, and he was the one being abused.

But Carol was so different. She was sweet and she was funny, and though she hadn't had much occasion to smile recently, she had a smile that made him feel warm inside. It made him feel good. And he knew that if Merle was around, he'd give him shit for getting weak in the knees about a sweet thing like her, but Daryl didn't care. Carol intrigued him, but there was no way in hell she could ever go for a guy like him, right? No way she'd want a rough redneck when she'd finally gotten out of an abusive marriage thanks to a few hungry walkers. And her daughter had almost died, so there was also that. She had a lot on her plate. No way was she thinking about him like that, was she?

Still, it didn't stop him from taking a couple of turns a little sharper so she'd cling to him just a little harder and squeeze her knees around him to hold on for dear life. He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face, and he knew his face was bright red. He was just glad she was behind him and couldn't see his face.

When they finally reached the farm, Daryl pulled up alongside the barn and waited for Carol to get off before he stood up. She was smiling, and he felt his throat grow tight, and he felt a swimming in his belly that he really didn't know how to respond to.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'd like to do that again sometime, if it's ok with you. I feel like I still have a lot to learn."

"You're a natural," he said with a shrug. "But I can take ya out, show ya some more sometime. Maybe get ya comfortable with a knife, too."

"Right. Knives first. Less noise," she replied with a little nod. Daryl eyed her. "Thank you, Daryl."

"Don't gotta thank me. Ain't no trouble." He slung the weapon bag over his shoulder and nodded toward the house. "You're probably wantin' to check on your girl. I'll get these guns back to Dale."

"Alright," Carol said with a nod. She watched as he walked away, and she saw the tension in his shoulders as he turned his head slightly to look at her one last time. She couldn't deny the feeling that fluttered in her chest as he quickly turned back around to head off toward the RV. She hadn't felt anything like this in a long time. She remembered having crushes in school, and she remembered back when Ed was charming and handsome and swept her off of her feet, but even then, she hadn't felt like this. There was a ache and a burn deep inside of her, something that was slowly waking but hadn't quite reached full alertness yet.

It frightened her, but at the same time, it made her heart flutter and her head feel fuzzy. And as she walked back toward the small group of tents, she pushed down those feelings and forced herself to concentrate on what was right in front of her. Surviving. Getting through this. Getting Sophia through this. Those were the things that counted, not some flushed feeling deep inside every time she thought about the way it felt to have his hands on her, his body pressed up against hers. It was a lesson in shooting. That was all. But why the hell couldn't she get him out of her head?

As she was heading back to the camp, she caught sight of Rick and Shane glancing in her direction. She felt the need to look away, the need to not look them in the eye. But she kept her head up, kept her eyes on Shane as she moved toward the tents. She kept her shoulders tense, and she walked with a pride about herself that she couldn't even understand. She didn't know why she was doing this or feeling these things, but she wasn't about to let some man like Shane get away with looking at her like some helpless victim in need of saving. If anybody was going to save her, she was going to save herself.

Shane was the one to break eye contact first, sweeping his hand over the back of his head and looking back to Rick to continue their conversation. A small smile crept at the corners of Carol's mouth, and in the moment, it was something beyond her understanding. She couldn't remember the last time she'd stood up for herself or stood her ground in the presence of a man who went around barking orders at people. Ed had been her oppressor, and he was dead, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let another man take that place. The world might have changed, but she was her own person for the first time in her life.

Just as she was stepping around the tents to head toward the house, she heard a sob coming from the Grimes' tent. Furrowing her brows, she ducked into the tent to find Lori standing with her hands on the table, shoulders slumped and shaking as she clutched something in her hand.

"Hey," Carol said softly. Lori spun quickly to face her, and she quickly wiped at the tears on her face. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Lori muttered, stuffing whatever she'd been holding into her pocket.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Carol pointed out.

"How'd your shooting lesson go?" Lori asked, trying to change the subject.

"It was fine. Now talk to me." Lori sighed heavily.

"I'm pregnant," Lori replied as the tears filled her eyes.

"Oh," Carol replied, taking a deep breath. "Are you…are you sure?"

"I had Glenn get me a test on his supply run. I suspected it before, but I'm sure now."

"Is that…I mean, you don't seem happy. I can understand being scared."

"I'm not…ok, I'm terrified," Lori admitted. She let out a heavy sigh. "You know it's Shane's." Carol raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I suspected there was something going on," Carol said with a little nod. "You thought Rick was dead."

"I did," Lori choked out. "And I'm sure it's Shane's. I suspected before…before Rick came back." She shook her head. "Rick's gonna know. He's gonna know, because we weren't…I mean, before he got shot, we were having problems, and we weren't…you know?" Carol nodded as she listened to her friend. Lori shoved her hand into her pocket and came back out with a hand full of pills. "I don't know what to do. I could take these and that would be the end of it."

"But you don't want that," Carol said quietly. "You _do_ want this baby."

"I shouldn't want this baby," Lori said with a shake of her head and a dry laugh. "There's not one good reason to have this baby. Not one. But I…" She sat down and buried her face in her hands. Carol quickly bridged the gap between them and knelt at Lori's side.

"I can't tell you what to do. All I can tell you is that you're stronger than this. You have to choose for you. Not for Rick. Not for Shane. For you. Because you're the one that has to be pregnant. You're the one who…"

"I know that," Lori broke out. "I know that." Her shoulders shook as she met Carol's gaze. "I don't know what to _do_." Carol paused then. _Oh._

"Do you love him?"

"I love my husband."

"I know you do," Carol said quietly. "But you thought he was dead. You grieved him."

"I did," Lori sobbed. "I did. And I never meant for…for anything to happen with Shane. It just happened, and he was good to me. I thought he was. Until I found out he lied." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I want to hate him, Carol. I want to hate him, but I can't." Carol pulled her arms around Lori's shoulders, and Lori began to crumble. Carol held strong as Lori cried, and she just sat there with her, not sure of what to say or to do. All she could do was be there and let Lori know that she wasn't alone.

...

Daryl watched as Carol left Lori's tent. She'd been in there for a while, and he hadn't meant to notice that. He just did. He was sitting on the porch steps of the Greene house, aimlessly drawing circles in the dirt with the end of an arrow. When Carol came walking his way, he sat up a little straighter, and he thought she'd just walk right by him and head on into the house. Instead, she turned and sat down next to him, and her knee brushed his as they sat side by side.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"Girl talk," Carol said with a little smirk.

"Checked on Sophia. She's out like a light, and Hershel don't want nobody botherin' her. Said she's sleepin' all by herself without painkillers, and he don't want nobody wakin' her. Best real sleep she's got in a while, he says."

"Thank you," Carol said with a bit of surprise in her voice.

"You did real good out there today," Daryl said quietly.

"I had a good teacher," Carol replied quietly. She glanced at him. "I want more."

"Huh?" he asked as just about every muscle in his body tensed up, and his mouth went dry.

"I want more training. Hand gun, rifle, crossbow, knife. Anything. I want to be prepared for anything."

"You got a thirst for it now?" he asked with a smirk.

"No," she said with a shrug. "I just don't want to be anybody's burden anymore. "I want to earn my keep. I want to fight to protect my family. This group is the closest thing I've had to a family since I was a girl living at home." Daryl nodded then.

"You ain't got nothin' to prove. You know that, right? I seen the way Shane looked at ya, like you don't need a gun in your hand. Fuck him. He don't know you."

"It's more than that. I've been…well, you met Ed. I want to be more than just some victim. I've seen how some of them look at me. They've seen the bruises. They know what he did. And I want to forget it. I just want to forget." She shook her head, and Daryl cleared his throat.

"You can't forget. What's done to ya becomes part of what you are…ya know? Who you are. You can't forget it. You just live with it." Carol looked up to meet his gaze, and she saw the truth there in his eyes and the way his lower lip trembled just a little as if he held a whole lifetime of knowledge about this very thing inside of him. "What he did to you? It's part of you, but it ain't you. Don't think you gotta make yourself be somethin' you ain't." Carol swallowed hard then, and she wasn't sure what to say next, but Daryl stood then, and he hoisted his crossbow over his shoulder.

"You wanna get outta here?" _And go where? Do what?_ Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn't know what she wanted or what she should say. But she found herself standing and nodding, looking right into his eyes.

"Yeah. I really do."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"You just got back," Rick pointed out, following Daryl out to the pickup, where he was loading up the tossing bags into the back.

"What we got here ain't gonna last forever," Daryl grumbled, hopping up into the cab and starting the engine. "Heard that kid Jimmy say there was a gun store 'bout ten miles from town."

"You really think it's a good idea?"

"It's still early," Daryl replied with a bit of a shrug. "'Sides, we're gonna need supplies."

"Want me to ride along?" Rick asked, as Shane came stepping up with a shotgun slung over one shoulder.

"No, m'takin' Carol."

"Carol?" Shane asked. "You serious, man?"

"She wants to pull her weight."

"Why don't you take Glenn? He's good at runs, and…"

"Ain't takin' Glenn. I'm takin' Carol. She's a good shot, and she wants to help. I say you outta let her." With that, Daryl slammed the door shut and pulled the truck around to the front of the house, leaving Shane and Rick in the dust.

He beeped the horn, and Carol came walking out dressed in a pair of fresh jeans and a blue tank top. She had a white sweater tied around her waist just in case they were out late and it got dark. Slung over one shoulder was an empty tote bag for supplies. Tucked in her belt was a pistol courtesy of Dale.

"Can I go?" came a voice by the window. Daryl glanced over to see Carl standing there wearing his daddy's sheriff's hat.

"Not this time, kid," Daryl replied with a shake of his head. "Don't think your folks would be too happy with me takin' you into town."

"Carl?" Carol asked, walking around the truck. "Sophia's been asking for you."

"She's awake?"

"For now. She's pretty sleepy, but if you hurry up there, you just might catch her before she dozes off again." At the smile on the boy's face, Carol chuckled and watched him hurry into the house. "Ah, young love." Daryl leaned over, opening the door for her, and she eyed him briefly before hopping up and sliding into the cab. With a slam of the door, Daryl took off down the gravel road toward the gates. "How much grief did you catch for telling them I'm coming along?" Daryl gave her a look.

"Don't let 'em walk all over you."

"Says the man who does Rick's bidding?"

"The hell you talkin' about?" Carol gave him a look and smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "He ain't givin' me orders. Rick's a good guy. He's a good leader. He wants to keep his family alive, and I respect that. I ain't doin' his biddin'. Just helpin' out."

"Maybe so," Carol said with a nod, as Daryl turned off onto the highway, "but you should speak up more. You do a lot for this group. You should have more of a say than they let you have. You're smart. But they don't see it. They just see you as a good shot and a good hunter. They don't see what I saw the night you brought my girl back. You're a good man. You're every bit as good as them…maybe better."

His face felt warm as Carol threw these compliments his way. He wasn't a man used to hearing things like that. Hell, even in school, Merle had had most of Daryl's teachers first, and they just expected he'd be another version of his brother. They hadn't even given him a chance. He'd been excited about his first day of kindergarten, but the first words out of Mrs. Niedermeyer's mouth had been 'mark my words, Daryl Dixon, I won't put up with any sass, so you'd better keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself, or it'll be the principal's office and a paddling for you.'

He saw her watching him, and he shifted in his seat.

"What?"

"You really don't understand it."

"Understand what?"

"How good you are."

"Pfft. Stop."

"Why?" she asked.

"Look, I don't need somebody tellin' me 'atta boy' or singin' my praises. Don't alright my whole life without it."

"I'm sorry," Carol said softly.

"Don't be," he said with a shrug. He scratched at his shoulder and fidgeted in the seat as he stepped up on the gas.

"Ed hated spicy food."

"What?"

"Ed. He was picky about his food. He always hated my chili. I'd put spices in it, and he'd smack me around and accuse me of trying to give him food poisoning. Well, I stopped for a long time, and I made the blandest, nastiest chili for years, and he just loved it. I didn't put any effort into it, I didn't put any special touches to it, but he loved it, and he always ate it up."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that what's awful to one person is beautiful to another. Whoever brought you down, whoever hurt you…they didn't know the first thing about you. I stayed with Ed. I tried to get out. But I always went back. But you? You look like you fought your way out and earned that freedom." She gently touched his shoulder where just the slightest bit of scarring was exposed. "We all have our scars." Daryl looked down where her fingers touched his bare skin, and then he met her gaze. "I just want you to know that you aren't alone. I know what it's like to think the world was made for everyone but you. I know what it's like to feel like everything's hopeless and you might as well just go along for whatever ride you get, because in the end, we all end up the same way. Dead."

Daryl eyed her then, and she settled back for the ride, folding her arms behind her head and leaning into them, relaxed and sure.

"Where are you taking us anyway?"

"There's a gun shop that kid Jimmy told me about. Thought we'd go and stock up, see if it ain't been picked through already."

"Oh," Carol said with a little nod. "Ok."

"Were ya expectin' somethin' else?" he asked, before he could consider swallowing his words. Carol gave him a little grin.

"Well, if you have something else in mind, I won't stop you," she teased.

"Stop," he snorted. Carol laughed then, and he couldn't help but smile as she rolled down the window and let the wind into the cab. He hadn't seen her like this before. He hadn't seen her so relaxed and at peace. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was made for this world. As harsh and cruel as it was, she was free here, and now that Sophia was getting better, she actually had some hope to cling to. She was smiling. She was happy. And he liked to see her happy.

...

"Alright, this looks like the place," Daryl murmured, as he cut the engine outside Bo's Guns 'n More. "You wait here, and I'll be out soon."

"Wait a minute, you brought me along so I can sit in the truck? I don't think so."

"I work better alone."

"Why am I here, Daryl?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "I want to help." Daryl sighed heavily, gripping the steering wheel.

"Fine. But I'm gonna check the place out first. Wanna make sure it's safe. That alright with you?" Carol smirked and nodded.

"That's fine." She unbuckled her seatbelt and waited. Daryl nodded and got out of the truck, quietly shutting the door before heading up onto the sidewalk to peer into the door. Mercifully, the door was unlocked, and Carol sat with bated breath, waiting as he walked inside with his crossbow drawn.

When he returned a few minutes later and motioned for her to follow, she quickly drew her pistol and clutched her empty bag. She hurried inside with him, and the door screeched shut on its hinges.

"Most of it's picked through," he noted. "But there's plenty of ammo under the counters. I'm gonna check the back. Saw a few unopened boxes. I'll see what's back there." Carol nodded, and she moved behind the counter to find several boxes of ammo. She began stuffing them in her bag before moving on to a nearby wall. There were a few hunting rifles with scopes attached, and she quickly grabbed those up, placing them on the counter with her bag.

Daryl returned from the back with a heavy pack in his hand.

"Find anything?"

"Some knives, a couple silencers. Those'll come in handy."

"Good," Carol said with a nod. "Oh, look." She pointed at one of the top shelves in the far corner. "Is that like yours?" Daryl narrowed his eyes as he moved toward the wall where a dusty crossbow was mounted.

"Yeah. A little smaller, but it'll work," he replied. "You want it?" Carol chewed her lip for a moment, considering an image of herself carrying a crossbow. She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders as Daryl climbed up to retrieve it. He handed it down to her and reached back up, coming down with a few packs of arrows. "Gonna need these."

They gathered everything quickly and made a couple of trips out to the pickup. When Carol returned inside for the third time, Daryl followed after her with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Think we got it all," he pointed out. She turned to see him pulling something from his pocket.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Found it in the back. Thought you might like it." He held it out to her. It was a knife, shining and strong with a knuckle guard she could easily see herself sliding her fingers through and gripping tightly.

"It's beautiful," Carol said quietly, as he took it into her hand. She gripped it, and it felt right.

"You always use the knife first. When you get in a bind, you start shooting, but the knife should always come first. Save the ammo, save the noise."

"Got it," Carol said with a nod. She looked down and tucked the knife into her belt.

"Here," Daryl offered, picking up a knife pouch off of one of the shelves. "See? It clips on your belt, and you can slide the knife in. This looks like the right side. You ok if I…?" He motioned toward her belt, and she nodded, biting the inside of her lip as Daryl's hands moved over her hips, clipping the pouch at her side. He took the knife from her then, sliding it in so it was secure. "That feel about right? Ain't pinchin' you?"

"It feels good," she said with a little chuckle, as his gaze swept up to meet hers. She couldn't help but crinkle her nose up as she saw the blush on his cheeks. She wanted to make some sort of joke, something to break the tension of the moment, but words were thick and faulty at the back of her throat. Instead, she found herself reaching down to put her hand over hers at her hip. "It's a good fit."

"Yeah," he murmured, gaze moving down her neck and over her freckled chest as she took a deep breath. She squeezed her legs together when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and something inside of her, something that had been locked away for too long broke free in that moment. Everything she'd pushed aside, every need that had long gone unmet during her marriage to Ed came bubbling up to the surface, and she felt like her skin was on fire.

"Daryl," she whispered, as she took a step backward, and he took a step forward, moving with her as their boots scraped against the cold concrete. Oh, this was wrong. It was so wrong. But when his hand moved from her hip to her side, it was like a perfectly orchestrated dance, and her body knew exactly what to do next.

She stopped and let him bridge the gap, and then he was crashing into her, lips and teeth and tongue as she buried her fingers into his hair.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It had been a while. The last time he'd been with a woman, it had been quick and dirty, and he was pretty sure she hadn't even gotten off. It had been a drunken mistake on both of their parts, and he hadn't even gotten her name. He was sober now, if not a little drunk on the feeling of Carol's thighs squeezing his hips, but he was pretty sure that this was neither a mistake nor something he was going to regret tomorrow. She continued to surprise him in the best possible ways. And he surprised himself.

He hadn't expected that he would make the move like that. He'd thought about it. The last few nights, he'd _really_ thought about it, lying there in his tent with her on his mind. But the last thing he'd thought he'd do was kiss her like his life depended on it. But it felt too damned good to stop.

Somehow, he'd managed to get her sitting on the counter, and he was standing between her legs, and her tongue was in his mouth. She tasted so good, and his heart felt like it might stop or bust, he wasn't sure which. But she was making these noises, these sweet, desperate noises, and his hands were gripping her hips, and he was pretty sure she was making those noises because of him.

He groaned as she squeezed her thighs, bringing him closer, and when he heard the whimper escape the back of her throat, he knew she could feel his erection straining at his zipper as he fought to keep control. Kissing her woke some primal hunger deep inside of him, and it was simmering just beneath his skin, coiled and strangling his muscles as he fought to keep from coming completely unhinged.

He pulled back, gently placing his hand against her neck, fingers light against her throat as he turned her face toward his. His nostrils flared as she slowly cracked her eyes open, pupils blown wide as she looked up at him with a hunger he'd never seen before.

"You sure 'bout this?" he panted, as he felt her hand move down his chest and over his pants to cup his straining erection. That, plus the hint of a smile at her lips was all he needed. "C'mere." He kissed her then, slow and deep, and she grabbed at his shoulders and his back, pulling him closer. The heat of her body pressed against his was enough to drive a man insane, and he rocked his hips against hers as he lay her back against the glass countertop, praying it wouldn't give under the weight of both of them.

He crawled over her, fingers twisting into the white arms of the sweater she'd tied around her waist. He pushed it back, and then his hands were grappling with the hem of her shirt. She arched back and her fingers stroked the ridged scars on his back. He sucked at her neck, gently grazing the skin with his teeth as he unceremoniously shoved his hand down the front of her pants. She cried out at the first contact of his fingers with her sensitive skin along her thighs, and she gripped his arms hard, straining to keep herself together as he stroked her through her panties. She was damp and so hot, and when he pulled his hand back, her scent hit him like a tidal wave. He growled then, yanking at her belt, loosening it just enough that the knife clip clattered onto the counter and then slid off onto the floor. He could hear the sting of blade against concrete somewhere in the back of his mind as the knife slipped from its holder, but it was soon lost on both of them, as Carol sat up just enough to start tugging at her shirt.

"Here. Let me," he grunted, tugging the tank top over her head and tossing it away. His hands were on her breasts then, cupping them through her bra, and his eyes darkened as he buried his face between them, tongue flicking at the trail of sweat that had beaded down from her neck. She gasped as he pulled back the simple white fabric that covered her, and when he drew a hardened nipple into his mouth, she cried out sharply, as if surprised by her own sensitivity. "You ok?" She nodded and reached behind her, unclasping the bra so he could slide it down her arms.

He lingered at her collarbones, gently brushing his thumbs along them before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss there. She threw her head back as he kissed down her through, and she draped one leg over his hip as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. She gasped, threading her fingers through his hair, as his stubble brushed against her skin. And she was trembling. He could feel the way her body shook as he slid his tongue across her breast, and he looked up then, gauging her reaction as he started with the button on her jeans.

"Just tell me to stop," he said cautiously, keeping his eyes on hers.

"No," he said bravely, sitting up a little, hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders before she started with the buttons on his shirt. He helped her, and she lay back, breasts shaking with each heavy breath, watching the way his fingers expertly worked the button of her jeans, dragging the zipper down. He wasn't rushing. He was taking his time, letting her know she could still back out if she wanted to. But her body was screaming at her, begging her to keep going, to let him keep going, because after all this time, she needed to feel something that wasn't disgust when a man touched her the way Daryl was touching her now. There was nothing disgusting about the way the desire flickered in his eyes, the way his tongue tasted her skin, the way his hands moved like they'd already mapped out the planes of her body in another life and just knew on instinct what to do to make her feel good.

He looked down at her then, gently tugging at her pants, sliding them over her hips. His fingers dug in then, gripping the band of her panties and bringing them along. She was starting to breathe heavier then, and he looked up at her, needing reassurance that he still had the green light.

"Wait," she murmured, gripping his wrist before he could continue.

"Want to stop?"

"No," she panted. "I just…it's been…a while. And I…" She swallowed hard and shook her head. "It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Tell me," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her again.

"Ed's the only man I ever…and I hated it. I always hated it with him. It wasn't ever…I don't think I ever…not with him." He watched in amazement as the weight of her words hit him, but he wouldn't linger on it, and he wouldn't make her feel like less of a woman for having never come with a man before.

"Maybe he wasn't doin' it right," he replied with a smirk. Carol couldn't help herself. She laughed. She fucking laughed, and it was so beautiful the way her eyes twinkled and the way the flush spread down her neck and over her freckled chest.

"Is this what you had planned?" she asked with a grin, letting go of his wrist so he could tug at her jeans some more.

"No," he replied. "Didn't have a damned thing planned past gettin' here, but I like the way this is goin'." Carol laughed again, and it made his heart soar. "Lift your ass." Carol smirked and did as he asked so he could pull her jeans down her legs. He got them down far enough that Carol could kick her boots off and then shift her jeans off with her feet. Then he was tugging on his own zipper, and Carol couldn't help but blush the moment she saw his dick in his hand, hard and ready. He gave it a few pumps in his fist, and Carol's hands were on his back, moving over his ass, clawing his jeans down his hips and pulling him closer.

He could tell by the surprised reaction when he didn't just move to push in right away that she was used to just getting right down to it, and he couldn't help but grin to himself when he began to kiss his way down her throat and chest.

"What…what are you…oh!" He wasted no time in spreading her legs and stroking her with his calloused but surprisingly gentle fingers. She gripped his shoulders then, biting off a cry as her head smacked against the glass counter. If it hurt, she didn't let on, and she closed her eyes, letting him work her over into a whimpering, shivering frenzy.

He couldn't get over how beautiful she was, how absolutely breathtaking she looked spread out before him on the counter. He'd never really taken his time before, not like this. He knew they should be getting back to the farm, but he wasn't ready to give up this time just yet. He hadn't expected this at all, but it was happening, and there was absolutely nothing he wanted more in this moment than to see the look on her face when she came, and he was not about to give up at that need.

She was squirming now, eyes rolling behind her lids, fingers slipping against the sweat that broke out over his arms, mouth slack as she gasped for breath like a fish out of water while he kissed her stomach. Then he was between her thighs, kissing them while he ran his thumbs along her hip bones. She lifted off the counter briefly, and he held her back down, sweeping his tongue over her soaking core. He couldn't help himself. He was like a man starved, and there was nothing keeping him from this.

"Daryl!" she panted out, fingers stretching out to find purchase in his hair. He chuckled against her before teasing her again, spreading her with his fingers so he could flick at her clit with his tongue. "Oh….God!"

He didn't have to work very hard for very long before he felt her whole body tense before him. He stopped touching her then and pulled back to watch her fly, gathering the strength to crawl back over her.

"Oh my God," she breathed after a few moments. "Daryl…that was…I've never…"

"Shh," he murmured, crawling over her, pressing kisses to her forehead and then her lips. He pulled back to see those gorgeous blue eyes flooded with tears. "You ok?" She nodded.

"I'm good," she promised, relaxing against the counter as he settled against her, hip to hip. Then he was kissing her, slow and soft, hands against her face and in her hair, and he began to push into her, slowly, easing into her as gently as he could while every fiber of his being stretched the thresholds of his patience. His body was on the verge of snapping, of giving into his primal urges to fuck her hard and fast. She whimpered against his lips, and he soothed the ache with tender kisses, distracting her as her body adjusted to him. He didn't know what she wanted, what she needed, but when her fingers dug into his shoulders and she bucked her hips up, pulling him closer until he filled her completely, his main goal was just making sure she went away with this knowing that sex could be fun for both of them. In very few words, she'd managed to sum up the entirety of her sex life with her husband, and while it angered him that Ed hadn't known what a fucking angel his wife was, it thrilled him to think that he could be the one to show her everything she'd been missing.

She was all around him, her scent, her skin, her heartbeat. It was overwhelming, and he had to bury his face against her neck and pray this wasn't over too damned fast when her muscles began to squeeze around him.

He hadn't felt anything like this in a long time, and it was a struggle to keep his composure, keep going, and he began to move, slowly at first, pulling back to see her face, to gauge her comfort, and when he hesitated briefly, her eyes fluttered open, and she reached for him.

"Don't stop," she urged. "Please don't stop." At her urgings, he grabbed her behind the knees and shifted so he could push into her, fast and deep, and she bit her cries out against the back of her hand. He was dizzy with pleasure, and his whole body ached for release. Carol was reaching for him, fingers gripping at his forearms as he picked up the speed, slamming into her, filling her, pulling out and sliding back home.

He held on, praying he could make it last until he felt her tremble beneath him again, until he heard the gasping sighs as her fingers dug into his muscles, pulling him closer, holding onto him as she went over the edge, and when he heard the whimpers begin to grow, the moans begin to turn into cries of passion, he sped up and pumped his hips against hers until he heard the glass counter groan beneath them. Then he let go, and he collapsed against her, and she buried her face against his chest, pressing kisses there as she came down from her own spiraling high.

"Jesus," he panted, pressing kisses along her jaw line as her hands moved over the planes of his back. He pulled back, pulling out of her and shifting so he wasn't crushing her against the glass countertop. He didn't know what the hell to say, and he never did right after, but the look in her eyes and the grin that spread over her face as she watched him watching her more than made up for his awkward silence.

"That was probably not the smartest thing we could have done," she chuckled, sitting up and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Probably not. Any regrets?"

"Of course not," she chuckled. "That was…I don't…I don't have words." He kissed her shoulder and brushed his thumb over that spot before he hopped up off the counter and started gathering their clothes.

"Speechless, huh?" he asked with a smirk.

"Oh shut up. Don't get cocky on me now."

"You weren't complainin' a minute ago," he pointed out. She rolled her eyes, but before she could say another word, the sound of banging against the back door interrupted their thoughts. "Talk about wakin' the dead," he muttered, as they worked quickly to pull their clothes back on and get the hell out of there.

...

By the time Daryl turned back onto the old dirt road that led up to the Greene farm, the sun was almost set, and dusk had swept over the fields. Carol was relaxed, happy as she sat in the passenger's seat with the window down and a cool breeze whipping through the cab.

He glanced at her from time to time, admiring the glow she seemed to have about her, and he took a little pride in the fact that he could make her smile and that he'd managed to take her mind off of things, even if it had only been for a little while.

The house was lit up when they approached, and he felt Carol's warm fingers curl around his own against the bench seat. He glanced down at their hands and then at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring up at the house, where the other members of their group and the Greene family were wandering in and out of the front door and sitting along the porch eating and drinking and having a good time.

"Gonna join the party?" Daryl asked.

"Mmm. You, too?"

"For a while. You sleepin' in the house tonight?"

"Thought I might try sleeping in my tent tonight," she said with a little shrug. "I could use some fresh air." He nodded then, wondering if she was expecting him to join her, or if she was planning on joining him. He felt a little unsettled and a little anxious, not certain what the next move was supposed to be, or if she even wanted there to be a next move. But he didn't have much time to think about it.

He cut the engine, and they hopped out of the truck as Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Dale came walking over.

"Any luck?" Rick asked, holding a fried chicken leg in one hand.

"Some," Daryl grunted, hoisting a box out of the back of the truck. "That chicken?"

"Patricia made it. It's good," Rick said with a nod.

"Good," Daryl smirked, shoving a box into Rick's arms. "M'starvin'. Worked up an appetite, you know?"

"You run into trouble?" Shane asked, eyeing Carol and then Daryl.

"Just a little," Carol replied, slinging her new crossbow over her shoulder and heading up to the house to join their friends for dinner.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

One of the biggest blessings of being guests on Hershel's property was the luxury of a hot shower now and again. Of course, having to share with over a dozen people meant lengthy waits between showers, and Andrea had all but written out an actual shower schedule.

On this night, Carol took her time in the shower, standing under the warm stream, lathering her short hair with flowery smelling shampoo, something girly from either Maggie or Patricia's stash, but whatever it was, it made her feel much better. Her body ached in all the right ways, and she couldn't help but blush as she ran the washcloth along her breasts and between her legs, remembering the ways he'd touched her in those very same places just hours ago.

She had never expected what had happened earlier that day, but she didn't regret a moment of it. She hadn't felt like that ever before. Sex had always been a chore, part of a routine in the early days of her marriage to Ed. It had become something she'd try to avoid at all costs until he demanded it or else. She'd never felt desired before, never felt craved by a simple look. She shivered at the memory of the way he looked at her, the way he touched her like she was something precious that deserved the attention.

Still, part of the benefits of being a full time mom and housewife had been the privacy she'd had during the day. Oh, she still remembered those lazy afternoons after the housework was finished when she could tuck into her secret box in the closet and pull out her trusty vibrator. At least she'd been able to appreciate her own body if her husband couldn't, but still, nothing compared to feeling truly desired, and in turn, truly needed. For Ed, she'd just been convenient, something to fuck. But when Daryl had looked at her, she'd seen a need in his eyes, a hunger she'd never seen out of Ed. He'd needed not just her but to be close to her, to feel something primal with another person and just be in the moment, two beings connected as one and giving and taking pieces of themselves until they completely fell apart, exhausted and satisfied.

"You almost done in there?" came a soft voice at the door.

"Uh, yeah," Carol said quickly, wiping off the last bits of soap from her shoulders and stomach, cutting the water and quickly grabbing for a towel.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I don't mean to barge in, but I have to go."

"Come in," Carol laughed, recognizing Andrea's voice. "I'm decent." Andrea opened the door to find Carol wrapped in a towel, one hand clutching the sides together while the other clutched at a fresh pile of clothes.

Carol nodded to her friend before quickly escaping into the nearest empty room. She closed herself inside and made quick work of slipping into a pair of comfortable, grey cotton leggings and a matching grey tank top. Underwear was just about as uncomfortable as it was unnecessary on a balmy Georgia night, so she'd decided not to waste her energy putting those on. It also didn't entirely escape her mind that Daryl might come to her tent, and well, the fewer clothes to work through the better.

She quickly slipped some flip-flops on her feet and tossed her dirty clothes and towel in the basket in the hall, making a mental note that it was her turn for laundry duty tomorrow.

Just as she was about to turn to check on Sophia, Daryl came up the steps with a towel draped over his shoulder. He froze when he saw her, and she gave him a small but warm smile.

"Shower free?" he asked before chewing his lower lip between his teeth for a brief moment.

"Yeah," Carol said with a nod, "but you might want to wait. Andrea's in there."

"Thanks for the tip," he said with a nod. "You, uh, you goin' to bed?"

"Thinking about it," she said with a little smile. "Thought I'd check on Sophia first." Daryl nodded, clearing his throat nervously. The toilet flushed, and Andrea came walking out looking refreshed and relieved.

"Thanks," Andrea said gratefully, pausing a moment to glance between Carol and Daryl before walking away. Carol gave her friend a little wave before turning her attention back to Daryl.

"I should…check on Sophia."

"Yeah," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You, uh…yeah. Goodnight."

"Good night, Daryl," she replied sweetly. Just as Daryl was about to shut the bathroom door behind him, Carol turned. "Oh, Glenn's pack is on the chair by the tub. If there's anything you need, you'll find it in the side zipper." Daryl furrowed his brows but had no time to say anything before Carol slipped into Sophia's room and shut the door behind her.

He shut the door and stripped down to nothing. He still smelled like her, and just the idea of it had him half-hard and aching for her again. He gripped his dick in one hand as he turned on the shower. The water was still warm, but it wouldn't be for long, so this would have to be a quick one. With a sigh, he moved his hand away from his erection and glanced curiously at Glenn's pack in the corner. Maybe he had something a little more manly to wash with than some prissy girly flower shit that all the women seemed to go ape-shit for.

He quickly unzipped the side of Glenn's pack and reached in to pull out a box. A box of condoms. He looked at the box in his hand and then at the door, and he realized what Carol was telling him. If that wasn't a sign she wanted him to come to her tonight, then he didn't know what was. With a smirk, he grabbed three condoms from the box and thought about grabbing another, but he figured he shouldn't leave the kid high and dry, so to speak.

He quickly tucked the foil packets in with his change of clothes before turning to get in the shower with anticipation simmering in his veins as the grin spread over his face. Tonight was going to be a good night.

...

Sophia had been in good spirits when Carol had checked on her, and they'd read together for a little while. Carol felt a little guilty that every creak of a floorboard had her gaze snapping toward the door, wondering if it was Daryl heading outside. Still, she sat with her little girl until she dozed off to sleep, and then she kissed her forehead and made sure she wasn't too warm but had enough covers in case the night grew chilly. She freshened up the glass of water next to the night stand and took her leave.

The bathroom door was wide open, and it was dark in there, and she could smell soap and feel the warmth of steam from a recent shower in the air. A small smile crossed her lips, and she started down the stairs, only to hear whispering from behind the closed doors of Maggie's room.

"Did you take some of the condoms?"

"Glenn, why would I take the condoms?"

"By my count, we should have eight left. There's like five in there."

"Well, let's hope, whoever they are, they're putting them to good use." He must have given her a pathetic look, because she stifled a laugh. "We'll make another run tomorrow, alright? Do you really need eight tonight?"

"Hey, I'm an overachiever."

Carol couldn't help but put her hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle at the cute conversation, but she wasn't about to eavesdrop any longer, especially since she had a pretty good idea exactly where those other condoms went, and the tingling between her legs and the race of her heartbeat had her eager to find out if she was right.

As she stepped out onto the porch, the cool night air and the sound of crickets greeted her, and she listened for signs of life as she stood staring out over the dark property.

She could hear the giggled whispers coming from Maggie's open window and a soft humming from Beth's window. The house was pretty still, and it calmed her, settled her nerves.

She stepped off the porch and started for the cluster of tents, quickly finding hers. Dale and Jimmy had set it up for her a couple of days ago, but she'd spent most of her time keeping close to Sophia.

Tonight, the sight of her dark tent was like coming home from vacation, a welcome sight that made her feel happy.

She could hear whispers coming from the other tents. A light illuminated Lori and Rick's tent, and Carol couldn't help but wonder what they must be talking about. She felt for her friend. She truly did. She'd seen the pain Lori was in when they first met up that night on the highway. She'd heard the story about her cop husband who got shot and had died in the hospital in Atlanta. She'd seen how good Shane had been with her and that boy, and it wasn't a wonder, with all the trauma and pain they'd gone through, that the two of them had gotten close. Still, it was an impossible situation to imagine her husband coming back and knowing she was carrying his best friend's baby.

She heard a soft snore coming from T-Dog's tent, and she glanced toward the RV to see Dale atop the vehicle with his rifle across his lap and a cup of coffee in one hand. With a sigh, she retreated to her tent, tired and anxious. She grasped around for her battery-powered lantern and turned it on to give herself a little light. She spread out her sleeping bag and rolled up a sweater under her pillow to give herself some more comfort, and she settled down, shivering a little as she watched the open flap of her tent sway a little in the breeze.

She sat there, shivering as she pulled her sleeping bag up around her as the night grew quiet and cold. She waited, wondering if he would come. But as the sound of the barn owl and the crickets thickened in the cool breeze, she decided to reserve the battery in the lantern and get some rest. Maybe it was a onetime thing after all. Maybe they'd never talk about it again. Maybe that was for the best.

She turned off the lantern and zipped up her tent before laying back against the pillow and pulling the sleeping bag up over her head. It had been muggy and hot earlier, and now she was lying on the ground shivering as she strongly considered getting up and going back to sleep in the house. But she was too tired to move, and she decided to stay put.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard something outside of her tent. She didn't make a move, figuring it was probably one of the guys heading off to piss in the bushes or something. Instead, she heard the scritch-scratching of the zipper sliding down the tent flap, and she quickly sat up to see someone poking their head inside.

"Daryl?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"Carol?"

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning the lantern back on.

"I…I can go," he stuttered, as Carol threw back the top of the sleeping bag.

"What took you so long? I thought you weren't coming."

"'Course I was. Just didn't wanna make a scene." Carol eyed him before giving him a little nod. He turned then to zip the tent the rest of the way up, and Carol quickly turned the light back out. "Shit? Where are you? Too damned dark in here."

"Over here," she chuckled softly. "Careful. Don't trip." He knelt down then and crawled across the tent until his hand was on her ankle. She snorted as he felt his way up her leg before he scooted over to sit next to her. "Ok?"

"Yeah," he snorted. And without another word, he pulled his arms around her and brought her to him in a hungry kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"You should go soon," Carol whispered, as Daryl lay on his side next to her with his face buried between her breasts and his hand buried between her legs.

"Am I doin' somethin' wrong?" he asked. Carol bit her lip to stifle a moan, and she shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "Nothing wrong about that." Daryl snorted against her chest, and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped.

"Quiet," he warned, as she shot a glare at him. He then pushed two fingers inside of her, pumping them slowly as if to see what other noises he could get her to make.

"Jesus," she panted, pulling her pillow over her face, biting back her moans against the checkered pillowcase. When he moved his hand away, she tossed the pillow away, and he sucked a breast into his mouth, covering the other with his calloused hand, massaging it gently as he worked the other over with his tongue. "You're playing with fire."

"We ain't woke nobody up yet. Don't know why you're so worried."

"It'll be dawn soon," she pointed out, as he kissed his way down her stomach. She sighed as he settled between her legs, pushing them apart. He was eager to explore her, hungry for her, and she'd never expected it out of him. She'd never expected that under that rough exterior was an extremely sexual being who could literally spend the better part of an hour between a woman's legs, bringing her over the edge more than once. She wasn't sure who enjoyed it more, to be honest.

When he'd come to her the night before, he'd been so hungry for her. She'd felt a little winded by the power behind his kisses, by the way his body trembled against hers as they moved together. He was gorgeous. She'd thought that the moment she'd met him, but she'd never really known quite how to take him. He was the kind of man that put people at a distance, because he really didn't know how to relate to many people. That's why it had surprised her when he'd been the first to volunteer to go look for Sophia.

But now that she knew him better, she knew he was the kind of person who would do whatever it took to help a person in need. She figured that the more time he spent away from Merle, the more that part of him shone through. He was a good person, and she was proud to call him her…whatever he was. Friend? Lover? Sweetheart? Maybe it was too soon to think about anything like that.

Her fingers tightened in his hair as her eyelids fluttered closed, and she let out a muffled gasp as the orgasm took over. His hands gripped her thighs, and she shook her head, gently pushing at him, silently telling him to back off for a moment. He hoisted himself up to lay next to her, and when she finally opened her eyes again, and her breathing began to return to normal, he couldn't help the grin that spread over his face.

"You look very proud of yourself," she said softly, running her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair.

"You still want me to go?" he asked.

"No," she said quietly, honestly. She sighed when he leaned in to kiss her. He surprised her in so many ways. The last thing she expected was for him to be so tender, so gentle with her. In all honesty, she'd expected him to be the kind of man who got straight up to smoke a cigarette right after or who just rolled over and stared silently up at the ceiling. But not Daryl. "I never expected you."

"Hmm?" He pulled back to look at her, and she just smiled a little and shook her head.

"Nothing," she whispered. She kissed him then, slow and softly before she gently eased him onto his back.

"What're you doin'?" he asked.

"Seeing as you were oh-so-generous, I figured I'd show a little gratitude." The words sunk in as Carol began to kiss his chest and then down toward his stomach. _Oh._

"Sweetie, are you ok?" Andrea asked at the breakfast table. Carol looked up from her coffee and blinked a few times as she processed Andrea's words.

"I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well last night." She glanced across the table at Daryl, who had been staring at her. She blushed and looked down at her coffee cup. "I'm fine. I promise."

"Well, try to take it easy today."

"Laundry duty," Carol said with a shrug.

"I've got it."

"You had it yesterday," Carol pointed out.

"I don't mind. You've been through a lot. Just get some rest, ok?"

"Thank you," Carol said softly. She felt guilty about letting Andrea take over laundry duty, when she knew very well it was her own damned fault she hadn't got much sleep the night before. Still, she was too tired to argue.

"Daryl?" Rick came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee and moved around to kiss Lori on the cheek. She looked pale, and she slowly ate a piece of dry toast and stiffened at his touch. Carol couldn't help but wonder what exactly they'd been talking about the night before and what exactly Lori had told her husband. Still, she knew it wasn't her business and turned her attention to Rick. "You up for a trip?"

"What kinda trip?" Daryl asked, biting into a piece of bacon.

"Shane and Glenna are gonna start checking the perimeter, fortifying fences, making sure it's safe. We need a hardware run. Nails, hammers. Jimmy says there's an old lumber mill at the edge of town."

"Ain't never gonna be completely safe. You got a creek on one side. Ain't like a river. They're gonna get through."

"That's why we have lookouts," Rick pointed out. Daryl glanced at Carol who gave him a little nod, as if encouraging him to speak his mind.

"You can build up the fences, you can lock up the gates, but it ain't gonna keep nothin' or nobody from getting' in if they're aimin' on it. They ain't walls."

"I spoke with Hershel, and he's willing to let us stay here so long as we pull our own weight." Daryl glanced at Carol and then back at Rick.

"We're stayin' here?" Daryl asked. Rick glanced over his shoulder at Lori, who met his gaze only for a moment before she got up and excused herself.

"I've got a family to look after. Carol's got her girl. It'll be winter before we know it. We need a place. We have cattle here. Fields. We can make this work. You gonna help us?" Daryl glanced at Carol once again before looking back at Rick.

"Alright, I'm in," he said with a nod. "When we leavin'?"

"Twenty."

"A'right." Rick headed off in the direction Lori had gone, and Carol stood with her plate.

"You done?" she asked, glancing at Daryl's now empty plate. He nodded.

"Thanks," he murmured, as she gave him a lingering smile. She saw the pink creep back into his cheeks and felt satisfied. Clearing his throat, Daryl pushed his chair back. "Better go get ready for the run." He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his pockets before heading out of the house. Carol couldn't help but take one last look at his ass as he walked away, and then she turned and headed off toward the kitchen.

Beth and Maggie were at the sink, and Beth took Carol's plate with a smile.

"Need any help?" she offered.

"Nope," Maggie replied with a shrug.

"Well, don't feel like you have to do all the kitchen work. We're guests here, and we should earn our keep," Carol pointed out.

"We've got it," Maggie promised her with a little smile.

"What was that?" Carol jumped and turned to see Andrea standing behind her with a half smile on her face.

"What was what?"

"You were flirting with Daryl." Maggie and Beth both stopped doing their dishes and glanced over their shoulders at the two women. Carol felt her cheeks grow warm, and she shook her head.

"What? No I wasn't."

"Oh, please. Honey, I might be blonde, but I'm not stupid. Come on, I saw the smile, the way you were looking at him."

"What's wrong with how I look at him?" Carol protested.

"Well, can you blame her?" Maggie piped up. "I mean, he's kind of dreamy in a rugged, outdoorsy way." Beth giggled at that, and Carol felt her cheeks grow warmer.

"He's just a friend," she insisted, not sure exactly what else she could say. What else could she say about a relationship that had only just yesterday taken a more serious turn?

"Huh," Andrea smirked. "Ok."

"Oh shut up," Carol laughed, tossing a towel at her friend. "I'm going to check on Sophia."

"Try not to think about that sweet Dixon booty on the way upstairs." At Maggie and Beth's snickering and chuckling, Carol rolled her eyes at Andrea and headed out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. But just before she could start up the first step, a gunshot rang out, sending the entire house into a panic.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Carol bolted for the door the moment she heard the gunshot, and the first worry on her mind was Daryl, because he'd headed out, and a paralyzing fear locked her in place for only a second before she was heading out that door.

Thankfully, she smacked right into him the second she was on the porch, and his hands gripped her forearms, and their eyes met.

"You ok?" he asked, and she only nodded as T-Dog and Shane went running toward the tree line. "The creek." Daryl took off after them, as several other members of the group rushed off after him. Carol took one look up at the house, only to see Patricia standing there gripping the hand rail.

"It's ok. I'll watch after Sophia," Patricia promised. Carol nodded her thanks and took off, slipping her knife out of its pouch and hurrying off in the direction the others had gone. She knew it was stupid, but something had happened, and now many of the people she considered to be her family were out there following the sound of a gunshot, and the whole entire idea of it made her stomach feel weak.

She scratched her arm on a broken tree branch as she rushed through, keeping close to Andrea who had slowed considerably. The sting of her scraped skin barely registered, however, when she heard pained screams from somewhere up ahead. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she struggled over loops of tree root protruding out of the ground.

"Over here!" she heard someone call. "Daryl! Daryl's bit!" Carol felt her blood run cold, and for a moment, she couldn't find her breath. She leaned against a tree for support as she felt her world falling out from under her. "Over here!"

"Carol!" Andrea had come back after looking back and not finding any sign of her friend. "Carol! Keep with the group."

"He's bit. He's bit," Carol gasped, unable to understand, as if the words that slipped from her tongue were foreign and bitter. "No. No!" Her jaw clenched, and she pushed on through the trees, and she kept running toward the screams that bled through the rustling leaves and the crunch of rock and soil under the soles of her boots. Her heart ached under her breast, and she felt the burn in her lungs as she pushed herself closer to the horrible sound.

 _Daryl. Not Daryl. Please._

The first thing she saw as she stepped out of the trees and onto the soggy banks of a hidden creek was the back of T-Dog's shirt, blood soaking along the sides as he knelt on the ground. Then there was Daryl, hunched over as T-Dog hovered over him. She stopped, fear slowly crackling up her spine like frost over a pane of glass. And then she saw it. The tan hat spilled out onto the muddy banks as the shallow water clouded red with blood. She heard the struggle of a snarling walker and looked up to see Rick and Jimmy rushing it into a tree before Rick slammed a knife into its skull.

And then there was one final gunshot before the screaming stopped, and Daryl stood, chest heaving, turning, face covered in blood spatter, and Carol's hands went numb as she clutched at her own knife.

Sprawled on the ground at Daryl and T-Dog's feet was Dale, torn open from just below the sternum, flesh and muscle and bone exposed. His mouth had fallen open, eyes filling with blood from the smoking wound at his forehead, staring blankly at the canopies, and Carol felt her stomach lurch, and she pushed through it, forcing back the bile and moving toward Daryl, hands clutching at his forearms, fingers slipping over the blood as she tried to get him to look at her.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "Daryl?" The gun shook in his hand, and she reached for it, taking it from him. "Daryl? Are you bit? Are you…"

"No. Just him. Not me." Carol let out a heavy sigh of relief, wanting to clutch him close, wanting to feel his heart beating against hers. But she knew it wasn't the time. Not like this. She holstered his gun, keeping one hand on his arm, trying to get him to meet her gaze.

"You're ok," she said softly, and then he looked at her. She nodded, and he blinked, moving one hand up to wipe at the blood on his face. "You're ok."

"He was already dead 'fore I got to him. Already torn wide open. Wasn't nothin' I could do. Wasn't…wasn't nothin' I could do for him." He turned toward Dale, where everyone was gathering around. Andrea had buckled forward, hand over her mouth as she placed her other hand over Dale's eyes, closing them. "He begged me to kill him."

"It's ok," Carol murmured softly, stomach tightening as she fought between the urge to grieve and the urge to get Daryl back to the farmhouse so she could take care of him and get him cleaned up. All the while she kept hearing it pounding in her ears. _Daryl! Daryl's bit!_ In the moment, she'd thought she'd heard it. She'd thought her world had come crashing down all over again. And the feeling of relief at seeing him, at knowing he was ok could not be put into words.

...

Carol knelt on the ground, hands wringing at a sponge in a bucket of cool water. She looked up at him, trying to hold back the tears that prickled at her eyes at the sight of blood spattered on his face, drying in the stubble on his chin.

"Are you ok?" she asked gently, taking one hand in hers, rubbing the sponge along his knuckles.

"I can do this. It's fine," he said quietly.

"I know. I want to," she offered, watching as pink droplets fell into the bucket of water. "What you did for Dale…"

"He asked me to do it. He was sufferin'. No way Hershel coulda saved him."

"I know," Carol said quietly.

"Just…ain't never killed a man before." He cleared his throat, and Carol gave his hand a squeeze as she moved the sponge up his arm, washing away the dried blood. She reached into the bucket, grabbing a white bar of soap. She lathered it in her hands before dropping it back into the water and sliding her fingers up his arm, working the blood away with her fingers before running the sponge over it for good measure.

"You did what you had to do," she offered. "And I know that meant a lot to Dale."

"We ain't safe here," Daryl murmured. "That walker got through the fence, and now Dale's dead. Now more are gonna come. Stupid. Always s'posed to use the knife first."

"Daryl," Carol said softly. "Stop. Stop beating yourself up." He cleared his throat and stilled her hands against his arm.

"I got this. You should go with the others."

"Are you coming?"

"I'll be along," he said quietly. "Go on." He cleared his throat and began to scrub his arms, and Carol wiped her hands on a white towel she'd put in the grass. With a sigh, she stood and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her for a moment, holding her gaze, and then he nodded. "Go on." With that, she turned to head back toward the house to join the others.

...

Daryl disappeared after Dale's funeral. Carol had thought about going after him, but she knew she'd be no use to him getting lost in the woods. So she'd kept herself busy reading to Sophia and helping the women in the kitchen while Shane, Glenn and Jimmy worked on fixing the broken fence that the Dale's walker had gotten through.

Without hesitation, Hershel had opened up his home for the group to stay in for the night until further accommodations could be figured out. There was already talk about fortifying the barn and building walls for private rooms, but for now, everyone was scattered through the house. The younger ones all bunked in the master bedroom with Sophia. Carl slept on a roll out bed, while Beth shared with Sophia. Maggie and Glenn had taken Maggie's room, while Lori and Rick had taken over Beth's room. No matter where you went, it seemed, there was somebody in each room, except for the attic, which was dark and cool, but it was fine for a muggy summer night.

Carol had stayed out on the porch waiting to make sure Daryl was safe, but as the night grew long and the only sound that could be heard were crickets singing and owls harkening the night, Carol finally made her way back into the house and up the stairs, finally coming to that attic door with her sleeping bag rolled under one arm.

The stairs creaked under each step, but the second she turned on the lantern to light her way, she breathed a sigh of relief that she'd chosen the attic to sleep in. There was a large window against the far wall that let the moonlight in, and it was perfect, Carol decided, for keeping watch. There were boxes and pieces of furniture along the walls, but there was a large, empty space on the floor that promised plenty of room for a sleeping bag or three. She put her sleeping bag down and slowly lowered herself to the floor, laying back with her arms propped behind her head for a very uncomfortable pillow. She turned off the lantern to save the batteries and waited.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the breeze shaking the window pane. An hour passed, at least, and nothing could still her frantic heart. And it wasn't until she was almost on the brink of sleep that she heard the attic door creak open.

She could hear heavy boots upon the steps, and the feet that were in them were trying hard not to make much noise. When she sat up, she made a move to reach for the lantern, but in the end, she didn't need to.

"Carol? You up here?"

"I'm here," she whispered, relief washing over her as Daryl stepped up and started toward her. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "Are you?"

"I was worried," she admitted. Daryl tossed something down near her. His sleeping bag. She couldn't help the warmth that spread through her at the simple act. And as he spread it out and lowered himself to the floor, she reached for his hand.

"Don't worry," he promised. "I ain't goin' nowhere."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Time is it?" Daryl asked sleepily between lazy kisses.

"Does it matter?" she asked, running her hand down his bare back as he slowly moved his hips against hers, moving inside of her, groaning as the feeling of her strong muscles closing in around him overpowered him.

"Promised Rick I'd go on a run with him."

"Or you could stay here," she offered. "There's lots you could do here. Lots of things that don't require putting on clothes or shoes or even moving from this very spot." Daryl groaned, burying his face against her neck.

"You're killin' me, woman," he murmured, as she dug the blunt ends of her fingers into his shoulders. And as she tightened her hold on him, he moved faster, suckling at her neck until he heard her begin to moan. Then he gripped her hips and thrust harder against her until she was shuddering underneath him, back arching against the sleeping bag they were tangled up in together.

When she came, he let go, and he kissed her slowly, softly, as she came back down to earth.

"Yeah, I think you should stay here," she said with a chuckle, as Daryl snorted against her neck.

"Or you could come with me. Visit that old gun shop for old time's sake." Carol couldn't help but giggle. The past month had been tumultuous. Tensions were high as the group tried to share the old farm house and avoid stepping on Hershel's toes. It was still his property, and Rick expected the rest of the group to respect that fact, though it was getting harder and harder for him to convince Shane to stop trying to take control of every situation. Still, there were few and far between moments like this where she could let go and enjoy herself with Daryl for just a little while.

Now that the group was fully moved into the old house, there wasn't much privacy or space for anyone. The attic was Carol's escape from the crowd, and Daryl often snuck up to be with her. It wasn't that they were outwardly trying to keep their relationship a secret. But neither of them exactly wanted the whole group asking questions or staring every time they walked into the room together. Neither one of them liked that kind of focus or attention, and it was just easier to steal moments together when everybody else was busy with other things.

"I wish I could," Carol pouted, giving him a kiss on the nose. "But I promised Lori I'd take over her share of the chores today."

"You shouldn't have to do that."

"She's dealing with a lot," Carol reminded him. "You know that."

"Ain't your fault she got knocked up."

"No," Carol replied, "but I know she's got a lot of pressure on her from Rick and from Shane, and that's just a time bomb waiting to go off." She shook her head. "It's impossible." She let out a slow breath. "And she had a C-Section with Carl. She'll probably need one with this baby, too. And that was a major surgery _before._ Now?"

"We got Hershel."

"Hershel doesn't know everything," Carol pointed out, as Daryl smoothed his calloused hand down her side.

"You gotta stop worryin'. None of this is anything you can change or fix," he pointed out. "You got your girl back, she's all healed up. Things are fine."

"For how long?" Carol asked, as Daryl rolled off of her and sat up beside her. Carol sat up with him, sliding her arm around his waist. She gave him a soft kiss upon the shoulder before running her fingers along the ridges of his scars. "Things have been fine since we fixed the fences. But we lost Dale. What happens when the fence breaks again?"

"We won't let it," he offered. "We'll keep checkin' it. We'll keep fortifyin' it if we need to."

"Daryl," Carol said gently. "We're on a farm with limited fuel. The generators won't last. The winter's coming."

"We'll make it work," he promised. "C'mere." He pulled her in close, closing in on her for a kiss. She sighed against his mouth, and when he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Will ya quit worryin'?" She gave him a little smile, and he kissed her again. She turned in his arms then, wrapping herself around him, and then his mouth was on her neck. He paused when he got to her shoulder.

"What?"

"Never noticed this before," he said quietly, running a rough finger over a small, circular scar on the side of her shoulder.

"Oh," Carol said quietly. "Three years…no. Four years ago. Sophia was running in the house, and she knocked over a picture frame and broke it. Apparently, I wasn't getting it cleaned up fast enough, so he threw it at me." She watched the darkness cloud Daryl's eyes in that moment. "I never knew I could be strong. I thought life was what it was, and that I had to play the part handed to me, you know?" Daryl placed a kiss to her shoulder, and she smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "Then everything changed. You changed me."

"Nah," he murmured.

"No, you did," she said quietly. "Don't sell yourself short. You took me for who I am. You didn't laugh or judge when I wanted to learn to defend myself. You didn't look at me the way Shane still looks at me. You helped me more than you'll ever know, Daryl."

Daryl cleared his throat and kissed her again, and then he turned his head and pushed back his hair, revealing a small scar behind his right ear. Carol gently ran her finger over it, and Daryl turned to look her in the eyes.

"I liked to read as a kid. My mama, she'd always find a book at a rummage sale or at the Goodwill, and if it was somethin' she thought I'd like, she'd bring it home and leave it by my bed. My old man had us up and runnin' from the time he got home from work. One day, I was so tired after school, and Merle wasn't around, and I fell asleep readin'. He yanked me outta bed by the ear and slammed my head into the door." Carol's eyes glittered with tears, and she shook her head. "I never knew why all the boys at school always bragged about their daddies. Mine was a worthless piece of shit. Never did nothin' for nobody, least of all his own blood. 'Fore everything changed, I was nobody. Nothin'. I worked shit jobs, and I stuck close to Merle. Matter of fact, Merle's the one that found you folks at the quarry. We was gonna come in in the middle of the night, take what we could find and get the hell outta there."

"Why didn't you?"

"I dunno," Daryl murmured, chewing at the cuticle of his thumbnail. "Guess I figured bein' with people was better than just bein' with Merle. He 'bout had my hide for not stickin' to the plan, but I couldn't do that to you folks."

"You're nothing like your brother," Carol murmured softly. "From what I can tell, everything you've been through, everything you've survived has made you into who you are, and you're a good man, Daryl." Daryl looked away, and Carol smiled. "Hey, look at me. I'm serious. If it wasn't for you, Sophia wouldn't be here right now. You didn't let yourself be a victim."

"Neither did you."

"Ah, well, that's where you're wrong," Carol pointed out. "I left Ed many times. But I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't strong enough to stay away for Sophia's sake. I'd lay there at the shelter with Sophia curled up at my side, and all I could think about was how was I supposed to take care of her? I didn't have any money, I didn't have a job. Ed made me dependent on him for everything, and I hated myself for that. I still hate that woman."

"Don't. She's a lot stronger than ya give her credit for. She had the strength to go back and face him, even when he knocked her down. Ya did the best ya could. My mama, see, she never left my old man. Not once. And she died never knowin' what it was like to be free." He watched as Carol trembled and wiped at her eyes.

"I guess I got lucky, huh?" she asked softly, threading their fingers together. "I got you."

"Yeah," he murmured. "You got me." And he kissed her again, a promise that she'd never have to feel the way she'd felt with Ed ever again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Daryl!" Glenn snapped, waving his hand in front of Daryl's face as the pickup truck bounced along the uneven country road. Daryl glared at him for a moment and then glanced at Rick who was smirking in the driver's seat.

"What the hell do you want?" Daryl muttered.

"Where's your head, man?" Glenn asked. "You sure you didn't get bit back there on the run?"

"I think he's got other things on his mind, Glenn. Leave the man alone." Daryl glared at both of them before turning his eyes back on the road.

"So it's true then?"

"What's true?" Daryl asked.

"You and Carol," Glenn offered.

"That any of your damned business?" Daryl mouthed back.

"The attic isn't soundproof," Glenn pointed out. "That's all I'm saying." Daryl stared out over the open road, trying to ignore the younger man's jibes. It wasn't that he didn't wanted to keep this thing with Carol hidden from the group. He just didn't think it was any of their damned business.

"I think it's great," Rick offered. "We all saw the way Ed treated her. You're a good man, Daryl. Carol needs that."

"Carol can take care of herself," Daryl pointed out. "She ain't weak. She ain't lettin' what that asshole did bring her down. Hell, if anybody needs anybody, I'm the one that's needin' her." He swallowed hard, feeling his face grow hot at outwardly expression his feelings. He wasn't that kind of man, and the only one he usually opened up to was Carol.

"Shane looks at me like I'm no better than these assholes," Rick said with a wave in the direction of a couple of walkers shuffling along the road. "And Lori tells me this kid's mine no matter what. We both know the truth. And she says she loves me, but I see her look at him, and it kills me. I could be the better guy. I could let her go. But I can't. I won't do that. " He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "What kind of man does that make me?" Glenn glanced at Rick and then at Daryl, and he seemed to shrink a little in his seat. He kept his mouth shut as they rode along in silence.

Finally, as Rick pulled off onto another long stretch of back road, Daryl glanced at Glenn and broke the silence.

"You and Maggie?"

"Huh? Oh," Glenn said quietly, nodding his head. "Yeah."

"Her daddy ok with that?"

"I…don't know."

"You love her?" At Glenn's silence, Daryl gave him a little smirk. "Maybe you better talk to her daddy then." Glenn blushed then, and he chuckled, leaning back against the seat and pulling his pack into his lap.

"I found this," he said quietly, grabbing a small box out of his pack. When he opened it up, a small, tear-drop diamond with a coiled chain sparkled in the evening sun. "You think Maggie'll like it?"

"Not bad," Rick offered. "This isn't some 'I don't know if I love you, so here's a gift, please don't pressure me' offering is it?"

"Maybe," Glenn admitted.

"Hmm," Daryl snorted, chewing at the cuticle of his thumbnail.

"What?" Glenn asked, putting the box back in his pack. Daryl shrugged. "No, really." Daryl and Rick exchanged glances before Daryl snorted.

"You just better pray that woman likes diamonds."

...

Carol sighed as she turned her face up toward the warm stream of water. She'd put in about two days of work in one afternoon, and her entire body ached, so it felt nice to just stand in the shower and let the jet of water sooth her sore muscles.

She squeezed the sponge over her chest, letting soapy water spray out and down her breasts. She hummed softly and ran her fingers through her wet hair, scrubbing at her scalp as she felt the sweat and grime just slip away and down the drain.

When she felt two rough, calloused hands on her hips, she gasped and spun, squinting as the soap stung her eyes. But she could just make out the silhouette of Daryl's face before she squeezed her eyes shut to try to stem the burn.

"Daryl!" she gasped hoarsely. "What are you doing?"

"What? Had a hard day. Gotta relax with a shower," he offered. Carol's jaw fell open, and Daryl smirked as he walked her backward into the stream, running his hands gently through her hair, massaging her scalp as the suds washed away. Finally, when all the soap was gone, Carol opened her eyes and blinked a few times, eyes red from the irritation.

"Where is everybody?"

"Most of 'em are sleepin'. Shane and Jimmy are keepin' watch on top of the RV."

"And you're here. Naked. In the shower with me?" Carol asked, as the shower door shut behind Daryl.

"So?" he asked, pulling her flush against him. Carol bit her lower lip as she traced her fingertips along his shoulders.

"So you don't care if somebody sees?"

"Little birdie told me noise carries in the attic."

"Shit," Carol laughed, burying her face against his neck. "We're caught?"

"We're caught," he replied with a grin that seemed to light up his whole face. Carol pulled back, running her hands up into his hair, sighing softly as he leaned down to meet her with a kiss.

"You're ok with that? With people knowing? Talking?"

"I dunno," he admitted, pressing kisses along her collarbone. "But fuck what anybody says anyway."

"Fuck 'em?" she asked, a grin spreading over her face.

"Yep. Fuck 'em. Don't matter what they know or what they don't. 'Sides, if they wanna talk, maybe we can give 'em somethin' to talk about." He gripped her hips and pulled her closer.

"Ooh, is that a challenge, Mr. Dixon?" she asked, bringing a soapy hand down between them, gripping him at the base of his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Might be," he replied, eyes darkening with desire as she gave him a little squeeze.

"Did you lock the door?" she asked.

"Yep," he promised.

"Good," she whispered, kissing him hungrily as he pushed her back against the shower wall.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"She did good today," Daryl said quietly, leaning back against the porch railing as he sat re-stringing his crossbow. Sophia was running around in the yard with Carl, and she looked a sigh different from the little girl that had been up in that bed for weeks recovering from a gunshot wound. She was full of spirit and fire, and she most certainly seemed to be feeling better.

"She did," Carol agreed, pushing her feet against the porch floor, listening to the squeak and creak of the chains on the porch swing as she slowly glided back and forth. "I think she might be a better shot than me."

"She's a fast learner, just like her mama." Carol smiled at that, and Daryl tapped one of his arrows on the toe of her boot.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he replied, a sly grin spreading over his face.

"You're in a good mood for a man who's spent his afternoon teaching a little girl to shoot a gun."

"Sophia's a good kid," Daryl said with a shrug.

"She's coming out of her shell," Carol said with a little nod. "She was always so careful at home, always quiet. I think she's realizing that she can be herself now. She doesn't have to worry about Ed punishing her because he thinks she deserves it." Carol looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "I think she knows something's going on between us."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because she said she likes you and likes that I smile when you're around," Carol replied with a little smile. "She's not used to seeing me happy." Daryl swallowed hard and finished restringing his blow, giving it a pluck to test the strength and tightness. He stood then, slinging his bow and pack of bolts over his shoulder. He reached out, fingers wiggling slightly as he gestured for her hand. "What?"

"C'mon. Got somethin' I wanna show ya."

"What's that?" she asked.

"You'll see." Carol eyed him for a moment before taking his hand and letting him help her up. "Ain't far."

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Carol asked, motioning toward Sophia, who was now doubled over with laughter as Carl tossed handfuls of chicken feed at her, and the chickens came pecking around her feet.

"They'll be alright. Fences are fortified. 'Sides, Andrea and Shane are on watch. They're fine." Carol's brow creased with concern. Just then, Lori stepped outside, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.

"You ok?" Carol asked, touching her friend lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah. Just a little overheated," Lori replied with a half-smile, placing a hand over the barely-noticeable swell of her stomach. "Fresh air is always good." Carol gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Are you going to be out here a while?"

"Until supper. Why?"

"Would you mind keeping an eye on Sophia for me? I'd just feel better knowing someone was watching her."

"Not a problem," Lori promised. She glanced over at Dale's RV where Andrea and Shane were sitting side-by-side, talking quietly as they kept watch for the evening. Carol couldn't help but see Lori's jaw tense and her gaze quickly shift back toward the kids.

"You gonna be ok?" Carol asked quietly.

"Yeah," Lori promised. "I'm great." She sat down on the porch swing and began to rock, while Carol glanced at Daryl and gave him a little shrug.

"We'll be back soon. Thanks, Lori." Lori nodded and waved Carol and Daryl off. Daryl gently placed his hand against Carol's back as they stepped off the porch, and as they rounded the side of the house, Carol slipped her hand into his, linking their fingers together. Daryl felt the heat creep up the back of his neck. He'd never had this before. He'd never had this sort of intimacy, and he'd always imagined he'd be horribly awkward at the stuff that wasn't sex. Hell, he hadn't expected sex with her to be half as mind-blowing as it really was, because all he'd ever had before was average sex that he'd never really understood the fuss over. But with Carol, he could understand why a person might never be able to get enough. He could understand why a person could lose himself in someone so completely. It was terrifying, but in his heart, he knew this was right. Being with her was the best feeling he'd ever experienced, and his heart ached at the thought of their time being cut short or of losing her in any way.

"So, where are we going?" Carol asked, as they crossed the lot toward the back field.

"Told ya. You'll see," he replied. Carol nudged his shoulder as they walked, and she let him lead her through the long grass and tufts of weeds that reached as far as their hips. They passed through the tree line, keeping close to the edge of the woods, walking about half a mile until Carol could hear the distinct sound of water lapping against rocks.

"When did you find this place?" Carol asked, as they stepped out into the sunlight again, coming out onto the shore of a big fishing pond.

"Found it when I was helpin' with the fences," he said quietly. "See that out there?" He pointed to a small deck that was built out over the water, plenty big enough for a couple of people to sit or stand upon to fish.

"Did you bring me out to fish? I think you forgot the poles," Carol teased, squeezing his hand.

"Nope," he murmured, swallowing down his anxieties.

"So why'd you bring me out here?" she asked softly as Daryl stepped off of the soft grass and onto the dock. He turned, bringing his hand to her waist. She startled at the sudden action.

"Watch your step," he said shyly, as he brought their joined hands up between them. Carol blushed at the gentle action, and she let him help her onto the solid platform.

"I'm not completely helpless, you know."

"Hell, I know that," he replied. "But you been workin' hard these past few days. Thought you might like a break."

"You come out here for breaks?" she asked, as they walked down the dock together, stopping just at the end. Daryl moved to sit, and then he reached for her hand. She lowered herself down to sit next to him, and they swung their feet over the dock. The soles of their boots skimmed over the surface of the water.

"It's quiet out here."

"Is it safe?"

"Safe a place as any. Got fields on one side, got forest on the other. Geeks would have to be wanderin' pretty far to get out here. 'Sides, we'll hear 'em comin'. Sound carries out here."

"Oh," Carol said with a blush in her cheeks. "So in other words, we'll have to be quiet, huh?" Daryl glanced at her, and he saw the curl in her lips and the gleam in her eyes before she pivoted, wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing her arms around his neck.

"Careful. We might fall in," Daryl said with a smirk as his hand moved down her back and over her ass.

"Then you better hold me tight and don't let go," she teased, skimming her tongue along his bottom lip. Daryl smirked then, and he chuckled against the kiss. "What? This isn't what you had planned?"

"Ain't sure what I had planned, but I like the way this is goin'." Carol grinned and kissed him again, and her spine prickled as he trailed his fingertips from the base of her spine up to the back of her neck. She shivered under his touch, and he held her close. And as he moved his hand under the fabric of her blouse, he felt her tremble as his fingertips soothed over her warm skin.

"You bring anything?" she asked quietly.

"I ain't no fuckin' boyscout, but I'm prepared, anyway," he replied, cocking his eyebrow as he fished a condom out of his pocket.

"My hero," she giggled, as he brushed his fingers over the back of her hair. She sighed against his lips, and he turned, laying her against the dock, crawling over her as the wood creaked beneath them. Just as he began to trail kisses from her neck to her collarbone, a gunshot rang out, and they both scrambled.

"What now?" he growled, gritting his teeth as he stood and helped her stand. "If it ain't one thing…"

"Daryl…Sophia," Carol murmured, hand flying to her chest as her eyes went wide with worry.

"She's fine. She's fine. Don't even think it," Daryl promised, reaching for her hand. "C'mon. Stay with me. We'll be home 'fore ya know it."

...

"Mom! Mommy!" Carol felt her heart sink as they ran through the trees. She knew that voice. She knew her Sophia. She'd known her little girl's voice in a crowd since the day she uttered her first word. And the faster they ran, the more her mind raced. Another gunshot.

"Daryl!" Carol cried out, biting back the tears she knew would come later.

"Don't. Just hold on," he growled, gripping her hand tighter as they ran. A piercing scream rang through the air, and Carol let go of Daryl's hand, racing ahead, as he struggled to keep up with her. "Wait!"

"Sophia!" Carol cried out, as she broke through the tree line and started up toward the field. The first thing she saw as the farmhouse came into view was a steady line of walkers advancing on the place they'd come to call home.

"Carol!" Daryl growled, catching up with her and grabbing her shoulders to hold her back. "We gotta go around."

"Sophia…she's…"

"We're gonna get her, alright? We're gonna get her, but we gotta go around. You gotta trust me, alright?" The tears spilled then, but Carol kept her jaw tight as she nodded. "You trust me?"

"I do," she said with a certain nod despite the shake in her voice.

"C'mon. Let's go get your girl."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Daryl's lungs burned as he led Carol through the woods, making a wide arc around to the other side of the farm house. The hungry snarls of nearby walkers rasped against the trees, carrying on the wind with the rustling leaves. His body ached as they pushed on, and the screams from the farm grew more pained and more frantic. The sound of gunshots were steady through the air, and Daryl imagined they'd gone through at least two boxes of ammo, maybe more.

As they rounded a large pine tree, a female walker reached out, grabbing at Carol's shirt. She bit back a scream, toppling to the ground with it, and before Daryl could react, Carol had her knife buried in the base of the skull, panting as she struggled, the scrape of bone against blade slicing through the air as she pulled it free and wiped it in the grass.

"You ok?" he asked, gripping her by the arm and helping her stand.

"Yeah," she uttered breathlessly, panting as she doubled over for a moment to gather her strength. She straightened, hands at her hips for a moment before she nodded at him. "Let's go." Daryl took the lead, and they stepped over a few fallen trees before breaking out from the tree line again. Now they were at the west side of the barn, and from there, they could see the RV peeling around the side of the house. As it made a sharp turn, the two lawn chairs on top fell off, and three walkers got caught under the wheels.

"Come on!" Daryl hissed, and they made a run for the RV. Two walkers were close, and Carol kept her knife taut and ready, but she didn't have to lunge, as they ducked to avoid grasping hands. The second they reached the RV, it came to a stop, and the door opened to reveal Lori driving it.

"Shit, I can't drive this thing!" she yelled.

"Where's Sophia?!" Carol asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Inside. Come on!" Lori urged. The two of them climbed aboard, and Carol frantically scanned the back for any sign of her daughter. Sophia was huddled in the back with Carl, and the second she saw her mother, she burst into tears.

"Mom!"

"Baby," Carol choked out, rushing to be with her, pulling her arms around both children.

" Move over, I got this," Daryl offered. "Where's Rick?" Lori jumped out of the driver's seat, and Daryl moved into it.

"I don't know!" she choked out. "I saw him run into the house with Shane to get supplies. Everybody's…I saw Patricia get bit. She's gone."

"Alright. Hold on," Daryl urged, stepping on the gas and bringing the RV around to the back of the house, parking it just outside the back door, getting it as close to the side of the house as he could.

"Everybody stay here. Nothin's gettin' in on this side. Stay away from the windows," he barked. He cast a glance back at Carol, who gave him an understanding nod before he rushed into the house.

The first thing he saw once he stepped into the kitchen was Patricia lying in a pool of blood, eyes glassy, mouth gaped open like she was gasping for breath. But she was gone, a mortal wound at the bend of her neck still oozing blood. Daryl slid his knife from the sheath on his belt and quickly stuck the blade in the side of her head.

"M'sorry," he murmured, closing the woman's eyes with his fingertips. It was then that he heard a choked gasp from the corner by the fridge. He looked up quickly to see Beth huddled there, blood spattered in her hair and on her clothes. Crumpled at her side was Jimmy, lifeless and pale with his head in her lap.

"Beth?" Daryl asked, inching closer, knife lowered to ease her fears. "Beth, are you bit?" Teeth gritted and mouth pulled in a frantic sob, she shook her head. "You're sure? That ain't your blood?"

"It ain't mine," she whimpered. "It's Jimmy's. And Patricia's." She broke down then, and just as Daryl took a step toward her crumpled form, a hand reached up, taking a fistful of wavy blonde hair. The raspy growl from sneering lips had Daryl lunging forward, barely getting the knife in the base of Jimmy's skull. But Jimmy went limp, and Beth began to sob again.

"It's ok. Hey. Look at me," Daryl murmured, placing his hand on Beth's shoulder. "It's ok. We gotta go, Beth. We gotta go." Beth nodded, and Daryl helped her move Jimmy's body, laying him out on the floor.

"Where's my daddy?" Beth asked, as Daryl put his arm around her waist and helped her toward the back door.

"I'm gonna find him, alright?" He helped her step over Patricia's body, and when he got to the door, Carol was standing at the front of the RV. "Hey. Take the girl. I'm gonna go find the others."

"Daryl, they're coming around, they're surrounding us. You need to hurry. We don't have much time." Carol's voice was shaky and uneven, and her eyes were filled with fear, but she kept her composure for the sake of the kids.

"Alright. You got her?"

"I've got her," Carol said with a nod, taking Beth's hand. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me three minutes. You don't see me, you take off to the highway. Wait there. If I ain't there in an hour, leave and don't look back."

"I'm not leaving you!" Carol choked out. "Just hurry." Daryl brushed his hand over hers briefly before turning and rushing back into the house.

The front door was ajar, but the screen door was latched, and a walker was trying to bite its way through. Daryl quickly shut the door and made his way from room to room, making certain nobody was getting left behind. When he reached the upstairs, he found Maggie slumped over her desk, blood pooling on the floor at her feet.

"Maggie?" he asked dryly, moving up behind her slowly, knife poised.

"It's too late for me," she murmured. Daryl turned to see her pale face, eyes glassy as she fought to stay conscious. "Glenn…he's…you can't let him give up." Daryl swallowed hard, trying not to grimace at the sight of the wound in Maggie's neck. "Take this." She reached a shaky hand outward, and Daryl reached out. When he pulled his hand back, he saw the tear-drop diamond necklace that Glenn had gotten for her days ago. "Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him it was enough." She smiled then, eyes closing as her shoulders shook with her last breath. And then she was still.

"Maggie!" Daryl turned at Glenn's voice in the doorframe. Blood dripped down his hand and onto the hardwood floor. The whole side of his shirt was soaked in blood, and Daryl took a step back.

"She's gone," Daryl murmured. Glenn crumpled then, falling against the door, and Daryl rushed to him.

"You bit?"

"No," Glenn choked out. "It's…it's Hershel's. I can't…I had to…to put him down."

"Christ," Daryl murmured. "Let's get you out of here."

"No!" Glenn yelled. "I have to…I have to do it." Daryl moved to help the young man up, and on shaking legs, the two crossed the room back to Maggie. Glenn grabbed his pocket knife and bent down, whispering something against Maggie's ear. And then he ended her, and he collapsed at the side of the desk.

"We gotta get you outta here. We gotta go, Glenn!" Daryl urged. "C'mon. We ain't got time. We're still here, and we gotta move." Glenn lurched forward, heaving and throwing up against the floor. Daryl thumped him on the back a few times before pulling him up, dragging him toward the door. "She'd want ya to fight. So we're gonna fight, you hear me?" With that, Glenn gave in and turned to flee with Daryl, and all Daryl could think about as they rushed through the rest of the house was that he had to get back to that RV and back to Carol, because losing her was not an option.


End file.
